


What Another Body Needs

by LaLainaJ



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, ArtThief!Klaus, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Hacker!Caroline, Smut, With Bonus Other Criminal Mikaelsons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: Showing up to what she *thought* was a routine meeting with a long term client Caroline's annoyed that it's been hikacked by one of said client's unruly brothers. Klaus is trouble, from everything Caroline's heard, and nothing in the first impression he makes convinces her the rumors are false. Still, there's something tempting in his pitch and she can't stop thinking about it.It's either going to be an epic disater or the best thing she's ever done.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [candycolamorgan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candycolamorgan/gifts).



> COLLEEN! Writing for someone you know is always nerve wracking, writing for someone who's smut is flawless is even tougher. I literally told someone, "Colleen should write more things" like an hour before I got this assignment. I've been slacking in the smut department lately so I was just like, "Screw it, let's make it porn-y" hence why so many extra words happened. Thanks for letting me go with this prompt (it was totally the one I wanted to do shh).

**What Another Body Needs**

"Sorry to keep you waiting but I see you've started without me."

Caroline freezes, a piece of mouth wateringly good bread halfway to her mouth, eyes darting up as an unfamiliar man pulls out the chair across from her. She sometimes laments Elijah's commitment to fancy, the need to dress up for a simple lunch, but at least he always picked places with impeccable food. The stranger settling across from her was cheerfully flouting the dress code in a fairly casual jacket and over a gray t-shirt that was open at the throat – no collar or tie in sight. Caroline's mystified that he'd even gotten past the snooty maitre'd given the _very_ thorough once over her own houndstooth tweed Alexander McQueen dress had gotten.

She inches her foot out making sure her purse, and the small handheld Taser it contained, is within an easy arm's reach. The Taser was one of Enzo's specials, stronger than it looked but discrete. It would put a man this guy's size down no problem. With a little luck he'd take the table out on his way to the floor, and Caroline could slip away in the confusion while people tried to help him. She sets her bread down and straightens her in her chair. She resists the urge to do a crumb check as she adopts a glacial tone, "Excuse me? I wasn't waiting for _you_."

He grins, entirely unoffended, helping himself to the bread basket.

Seriously, could this guy _be_ more presumptuous?

He takes his time with the butter, "Of that I am perfectly aware but I'm afraid my brother has been detained and won't be able to join you. I thought it'd be a shame to let such a lovely young lady eat alone."

Her brows rise slightly, but that's the only reaction Caroline allows. She's been working with Elijah Mikaelson off and on for three years, and he's one of her easier clients. Always prompt with a payment, scrupulous about his plans. He doesn't leave a single detail to chance and Caroline can respect that even if she finds him a smidge humorless and rigid most of the time. She's never met his family though he's hinted that they were also interested in her services. "Oh really? And why is that?"

It's a fishing technique. Having declined meetings with both of Elijah's brother's in the past there's an obvious reason for this ambush. One of them has decided to try a new persuasion tactic. She's reasonably certain she already knows just _which_ brother she's dealing with but she'd like confirmation before she proceeds.

Caroline's always kept her ears open and gleaned what she could about her clients, as well as any potential ones. Preparation was kind of her thing. The Mikaelsons were notorious in the circles she traveled in, third generation thieves and _very_ good ones. Gossip was plentiful and easy to get. Parsing what was fact from fiction was more difficult.

They each had a specialty and wildly different styles. Elijah traded in secrets and scandals, his targets were always huge caches of data or carefully hidden manila envelopes. He was focused, methodical and always had a backup plan for his backup plans. It was why Caroline liked working with him. Their processes just meshed. The only drawback was that the urge to snoop was always a maddening itch when he hired her, nearly impossible to ignore, but Caroline had learned to restrain herself, could often fill in too many of the blanks as it was simply by paying attention to CNN.

 _Not_ a fact that she ever advertised. No need to paint a big fat target on her back. Sitting comfortably under the radar, Caroline had found, was the best way to keep her reputation (and therefore her wealth) growing.

Besides, it was none of her business when a CEO of a ginormous publically traded company stepped down (and was replaced with someone who seemed willing to sign whatever was put in front of him, leading to much shareholder profit and some public grumbling) after Caroline assisted Elijah in stealing a small stack of DVDs from his private home office.

Caroline also did _not_ allow herself to think about what kind of gross homemade blackmail worthy porn those discs had probably contained. Guys that rich, in her experience, had issues upon issues and hardly ever had the sort of hotness or charisma that would make unpacking them the least bit appealing.

 _Fifty Shades of Grey_ was a big fat lie.

Rebekah, the youngest of the Mikaelsons and the only girl, went after pretty baubles – the bigger and rarer the stones the better. She was especially fond of red diamonds and pink sapphires and the list of pieces she was said to have stolen was impressive, drool worthy and valued in the hundreds of millions. Not all the jewellery showed up for sale later and Caroline had to admit that, judging from the things Rebekah seemed to keep, the woman had great taste. Unfortunately, she tended to treat allies and associates like they were disposable, leaving them bitter and/or imprisoned while she skipped off with the loot and the glory. Caroline had always planned on giving Rebekah Mikaelson a wide berth lest she get the same treatment.

Prison was not a part of Caroline's future plans.

Kol was tougher to get a read on, the stories and his activities the most varied. The single constant was that his jobs were _always_ flashy. In the last year she'd heard of him taking a casino in Lisbon for just over fifty million, making off with an ejaculating manga statue that had just sold at auction for thirteen point five million (how he'd slipped _that_ out and transported it so discretely Caroline had no idea) and snatching the original artwork for The Clash's _London Calling_ that was valued at a relatively paltry one hundred-twenty grand. No connections between the jobs existed and no one would ever have known they were all Kol's work if only he'd been able to resist the urge to brag.

Kol was fond of leaving notes behind. Each was humorous, and mildly insulting. They tended to spell out exactly how he'd accomplished each job, enumerating the holes in the security that had made it possible for him to successful steal whatever he'd been after. Each one was signed, "XOXO, I'm better than you."

Kol Mikaelson was basically a world class troll, erratic and in it for the fun and the notoriety as much as the money. Caroline liked her jobs as stress free as possible and imagined that working with Kol would be like herding cats. She figured he'd drive her to drown her frustrations in the over consumption of chocolate and hard liquor. Not exactly healthy.

She knew people who loathed him, bitched about how he was making their jobs harder and allowing security firms to up their game. Caroline also knew a few people who'd met him personally and their reviews were mixed. An acquaintance with a talent for forging passports claimed that Kol Mikaelson was the best sex she'd ever had Caroline's good friend, another hacker named Bonnie Bennett, got tense and quiet when Kol's name had come up. The only thing Caroline had ever been able to work out of Bonnie, and she'd _tried_ , had been a string of angry curses interspersed with words like, "Smarmy, unstable, arrogant asshat."

Bonnie was tiny, but brilliant and kind of scary when she wanted to be, so Caroline had backed away slowly, cracked another bottle of wine, and never broached the subject again.

She'd never bothered to ask for a description – wanting to avoid having to listen to a dramatic retelling of sex with Kol in one case, or setting Bonnie off in the other – but she's willing to bet that the man in front of her wasn't Kol Mikaelson. There was stillness, a certain patience, to this guy that just didn't jive with Caroline's impressions of Kol. _This_ guy is taking her scrutiny calmly, without even a flicker of annoyance, seemingly content to eat in silence until she speaks.

"You must be Klaus," Caroline says, noting in satisfaction the surprise that crosses her uninvited lunch companion's face, confirming her suspicions.

Point: her.

The stories about Klaus Mikaelson had been few and far between. He wasn't the life of the party type like Kol, hadn't left behind a trail of broken hearted suitors and accomplices who were all too willing to bend Caroline's faux sympathetic ear like Rebekah. She knew Klaus was good at his job, targeted art exclusively. There were whispers that he was a dab hand at forgeries, but she'd heard little personal gossip beyond a general warning that he wasn't someone you wanted to cross.

Honestly, someone could have at least mentioned that he was hot. If she'd been prepared for it she might be able to pretend like she wasn't checking him out.

"Not just a pretty face, are you?" he remarks lightly.

Caroline refuses to let his unexpected warmth, the hint of pleasure in his gaze as he studies her, throw her off. He clearly has an agenda here, she's not willing to forget that just because his accent makes the compliments sound extra delicious. She scoffs and decides that if she's going to be annoyed she might as well be annoyed while eating delicious carbohydrates. Caroline picks up her bread once more, "Please. If I was just a pretty face you wouldn't be here right now."

His head dips in acknowledgement, "Very true."

"What do you mean by 'detained' anyway?"

His smile widens, a touch of glee lightening his blue eyes, and she hates that it makes him _more_ attractive. "Elijah will wriggle his way loose soon enough, don't you worry. I tied knots anyone with a hint of sense would be appalled at. I imagine he'll be a bit cross, until I buy him a new suit or two, but really that's nothing new. He excels at the silent treatment, thinks that we'll crack under the weight of his disapproval. I've learned to ignore it."

It's difficult not to let her jaw drop as she processes the lengths Klaus had evidently gone to in order to meet her. And _maybe_ she has to make an effort to stop herself from smiling because the mental picture he's painted _is_ hilarious. "You tied him up?" Caroline hisses incredulously.

"Mmm," he confirms, perfectly relaxed in the face of her censure. "Left him in a utility closet in his hotel's basement. He'll get over it. Eventually."

Caroline rolls her eyes, "Yeah, I'm not so concerned with the state of your brotherly love save for thanking my lucky stars that I'm an only child."

His eyes narrow, some of his geniality leaking away when he leans forward. "Just _concern_ for my brother, then?" Klaus asks sharply. "Interesting. Elijah's been holding out on me. You should reconsider mixing business with pleasure, sweetheart. Take it from me it gets a bit… messy."

She bristles, finds her hands curling around her fork as his insinuation sinks in. She'd been softening but _that_ was over. Few things pissed her off more than condescension. "Thank you," she spits out, "for your expert advice about something that is _none_ of your business. I'm done being polite now. What do you _want_?"

His face relaxes back into warmer lines immediately, and he offers a small conciliatory smile before his hand lifts to wave a waiter over. "Apologies for my forwardness, love. I did think that my purpose here was obvious. I want _you_ , Caroline. Let me buy you lunch and make you an offer, hmm? I promise you won't regret it."

* * *

Klaus catches her eye, tipping his head towards the doorway. It's subtle, not something anyone else would notice, but Caroline's been expecting it. He's getting impatient.

She shakes her head minutely, denying his signal. He shoots her an unimpressed look but returns to his conversation after a moment, and she refocuses on hers. Some socialite is lamenting the shipping time for the marble slab she's ordered for her bathroom, and Caroline's doing her best to pretend to be sympathetic.

In reality, she's bored out of her mind, can tell Klaus is too by the way his eyes keep flicking about the room. He wants to get this show on the road but Caroline thinks they should wait for the more people to arrive. Security will be spread thinner, their absence less remarkable, more foot traffic would cover up any odd noises too. As much as she wants to get this evening over with, at least so the butterflies in her stomach will calm, she wants to do the job right more.

Failure is not in her vocabulary.

It's half past ten and the invite had said nine o clock. Caroline's kicking herself for not considering that arty fartsy types would subscribe to the idea that being fashionably late was a legitimate thing and not just really freaking rude.

Her instincts have never steered her wrong. She'd ignored them quite a bit in high school, had attached herself to people and immersed herself in activities for the wrong reasons - popularity, transcript padding, sheer loneliness. Eventually she'd come to regret the wasted energy, had learned to trust her gut even when the path is set her on seemed ill-advised. She'd never questioned herself not since halfway through her sophomore year at Georgia Tech, when she'd gotten in her car (with pepper spray and the .22 pistol she'd found when she'd cleaned out her mom's nightstand because she wasn't an idiot) and driven to New York to find the address a series of cryptic emails had led her to.

Emails that she was forever grateful for, because she wouldn't trade her current life for anything.

In the beginning Caroline had just wanted to figure out the riddles that kept popping up in her IMs. She'd had no luck tracing the source and that, all on its own, had impressed her. Plus, she'd always loved a good puzzle, the satisfaction of a neat and orderly conclusion. The best way she'd found to cope with her mother's death had been to keep her brain occupied and the messages had certainly done that, allowed her to mull them over in quiet moments instead of dwelling on her grief.

She hadn't known then that they would change her life, would have laughed until she couldn't breathe at the time if it had been suggested that she'd be dropping out of school and entering a whole new world because of silly strings of text from an unknown sender.

She'd been dubious about that first job offer. The impromptu road trip had led her to Pierce Industries, a swanky set of offices of unknown purpose – and Caroline had done extensive digging – in a Midtown Manhattan high rise. Katherine Pierce had greeted Caroline personally, gorgeous and enigmatic in enviable shoes. She'd told Caroline that she had untapped potential, that she was wasting it on her conventional education. That she could learn so much more by doing.

The money offered had been staggering, too good to turn down for a girl who'd just buried her mother and was already burdened with student loans, and Caroline had cautiously accepted Katherine's deal.

That had been the hook, and Caroline had never managed to wriggle her way off of it.

Caroline found being her own boss more than suited her. Sure, her career's not exactly conventional. Or legal, for that matter. Her parents were gone, would never know that the daughter they'd raised to expect the letter of the law had learned to be comfortable with bending it. There wasn't anyone else to answer to, her distant aunts and step father were convinced she was in a PH.D program, their infrequent correspondence allowed Caroline to be vague about the details. She and her high school friends had drifted apart after graduation having scattered to schools across several states.

She's met new people along the way easily enough, had a number of friends and acquaintances who were in similar lines of work.

It was one of said acquaintances (a paltry word considering how… complicated and decidedly _not_ casual things had gotten between them) who was responsible for her current predicament.

Her flawless instincts had pegged him perfectly. She'd _known_ Klaus Mikaelson was trouble. He moved like it, all lazy grace and ease, and it had set her danger sensors screaming. Right from that first moment he'd helped himself to a chair at her table, like his welcome was a forgone conclusion. He'd flashed his dimples even as he eyed her with an air of assessment, and opened his overly pretty mouth.

She watches with some annoyance as he walks away from his conversation, making a beeline for her. He's going to attempt to convince her they need to get started and Caroline shoots him a warning look, letting him know it's not going to be easy. Klaus' steps don't falter, he even smiles with what can only be anticipation.

She sighs, and drains her drink, squaring her shoulders ready to do battle. Klaus had been aggravating, right from the start. Caroline really shouldn't be surprised that he's _still_ making her life difficult.

* * *

She's drifting off to sleep, in that comfy place where the real world grows fuzzy around the edges, when a tapping sound wrenches her out of it. Caroline jolts into wakefulness and sits up, glancing around wildly, beginning to shiver when her blanket falls away and the chill of the room hits her bare skin.

It was a scientific fact that a cold room led to better quality sleep. Caroline just so happened to be fond of PJ's that existed in the realm of cute and slinky and the purple satin nude lace nightgown she was wearing certainly qualified. She hears the noise again, recognizes it this time. Someone's tapping on the glass doors that leads out to her balcony.

Her _ninth_ _story_ balcony. At 12:16 AM. What in the _world_?

The last of her drowsiness fades as she begins to grow alarmed. Caroline leans over and clicks on her lamp, palming her phone and squinting when the light hits her eyes.

Only to deflate, equal parts relieved and annoyed, when she can see clearly again.

Her freak out was unnecessary because Klaus Mikaelson is leaning against the railing on the other side of the glass. He wiggles his fingers in a casual greeting that has Caroline's blood beginning to boil.

She should have gone for the gun. Just to make him sweat a little.

For a moment she's tempted to ignore Klaus, to fluff her pillow and feign going back to sleep, but something tells her that he's not the type to give up easily. She'd really like to get some actual rest to she might as well see what he wants.

Besides, she kind of needs to know how he'd gotten onto her balcony without her knowing. Caroline's building has decent security and she's subtly added her own upgrades in the two years she's lived here. If there's a hole she should be aware of it.

She keeps her expression frosty, letting her exasperation shine through, and throws off the covers. She debates grabbing a robe but decides against it. Klaus hadn't been shy about admiring her when he'd hijacked her lunch two days ago and Caroline wasn't against using her attractiveness to her advantage. He was clearly trying to mess with her, showing up like this. Might as well do what she could to wrestle away the upper hand.

Caroline takes her time making her way across the room, spine straight and proud. Klaus' eyes drift down over the length of her body, lingering on her barely covered thighs.

She files _that_ away for future reference.

To his credit he manages to be looking at her face when she disengages the lock on the door, a small smile tugging at his lips as she slides it open, "Evening, love. Might I say you look ravishing in that shade of purple?"

She ignores the attempt at a compliment, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't toss you off this balcony?"

Klaus rocks back on his heels, glancing behind him, "Might be a bit hard to explain, don't you think? The authorities would be called, pesky investigations started up, awkward questions asked. One _might_ begin to wonder why a lowly student can afford such a lovely home."

She hates that he has her there. She makes a point to keep to herself, makes only the most banal of chit chat with her neighbors. Caroline's dropped just enough info to make them think she's got family money and that she goes to school as a hobby between jaunts of travel to sunny locales.

Someone with half a brain and motive to dig deeper could spell trouble for her. Her lease said Caroline Byron (in honor of the enchantress of numbers, Ada Lovelace); a person who's existence had only begun four years ago when Caroline had paid a hefty sum for a clean identity. She'd covered her tracks, doctored up some medical records and educational transcripts, enough to hold up to a cursory scrutiny.

Good thing she didn't _actually_ want to murder Klaus. She likes her crime white collar and Caroline's certain that he's not a threat to her. He couldn't blackmail her. All the jobs she'd participated in that Klaus could possibly have insider knowledge of had the same point person. He couldn't do anything to her without implicating his own brother.

The relationships between the siblings were said to be complicated. Tangled and often fraught. But one thing that seemed to be a reoccurring theme in the stories about them? Anyone messing with one Mikaelson would find themselves attacked by them all.

Few people were that stupid. Those who _were_ that stupid quickly found themselves in binds of either the legal or of the bad, 'I wish witness protection for criminals were a thing' kind of illegal. They protected each other above all else. Klaus wouldn't sell out his family to get to her.

"I hope you don't expect me to offer you a beverage," Caroline tells him tartly, waving him inside. "Since it's _well_ passed acceptable social calling hours."

Klaus brushes past her, more closely than he'd needed too, and Caroline glares at his back even as she curses him for smelling amazing. "Luckily this isn't quite a social call then, isn't it? Though I wouldn't object to such a thing between us in the future."

Caroline doesn't try to hide her eye roll but Klaus is too busy surveying her bedroom to get the full effect. "Yeah, I'm going to bet _that_ line has never gotten you laid."

He laughs, his delight clear, and perches on the end of her bed, bouncing slightly and appearing thoughtful. "I've never tried it but I imagine, with a little effort, I could win that bet. I've never had much trouble acquiring company when I desire it."

Her nose wrinkles, "Wow. You are certainly full of it."

"Charm? I think so. Thank you, Caroline."

He's smirking, obviously teasing - inviting her to tease _back_ \- and she cracks a smile. He's _fun_ , Caroline realizes. Between that and the appealing package she'd probably have agreed to keep him company had they met under different circumstances.

She'll _never_ tell him that.

"I will admit you seem to know your way around the banter. If you could tone down the narcissism you might even be tolerable. If, you know, you weren't such a creepy stalker."

"I'm eager to begin. This heist is time sensitive and I'd like to get down to business as soon as possible."

"I haven't accepted the job," Caroline shoots back defiantly, crossing her arms.

Which was not to say that she didn't _want_ to.

The money he's offering is incredible, a big bump up from her going rate. _What_ he's asking of her is different too. He needs a partner, not just tech support, and Caroline would be lying if she claimed the challenge didn't appeal to her. She thinks she might even be good at it, and a girl could never have too many bankable skills.

He's even offered to cough up the dough to cover the outfit she'd need to wear. To fit into the event Klaus was targeting, an eccentric billionaire's ball to show off his fancy art, it would have to be a _hell_ of a dress.

Truthfully, she's already started googling options. Because every time she'd turned the offer over in her head the conclusion she'd come to had been the same.

Klaus doesn't blink, leans back on his hands, appearing perfectly at ease looking up to her. "So you're telling me you _haven't_ begun your own reconnaissance?"

Caroline _might_ have already tracked down the blueprints of the estate the ball was being held at. She'd actually been working up a computerized rendering of the building before she'd gone to bed. There was no way Klaus could know that, however. "Seriously, are you _actually_ stalking me?"

He shakes his head, "It's merely an educated guess. Elijah spoke highly of your preparedness, your attention to detail. He was almost effusive and he's not to sort to give praise lightly. Or at all, really."

Okay, that was accurate. Caroline had never gotten much more than a stiff nod of approval from Elijah so it was kinda nice to hear he appreciated her contributions. "How'd he take being stuffed in a closet, by the way?"

"Not well," Klaus replies, a slight grimace twisting his features. "I may have underestimated the length of time he'll hold a grudge but we shall see."

"He emailed me an apology for missing the meeting. Said he hoped I wouldn't judge him too harshly by association now that I've met you. I'd say you are _definitely_ on his shit list." Interestingly enough Elijah hadn't attempted to discourage Caroline from working with Klaus, had even offered a few short words assuring her that Klaus could be trusted.

Elijah was biased so Caroline was reserving judgement.

"Not a state of being that I am unfamiliar with, I assure you," Klaus says with a casual shrug.

"I'll bet."

He hums, but makes no other response, watching her expectantly.

He's waiting for an answer, is eagerly anticipating it. Caroline _should_ kick him out, tell him he'll have to try again at a reasonable hour.

The problem is that she doesn't really want to.

In the grand tradition of listening to her instincts Caroline caves, throws up her hands, "Fine! I'm in. For now. I reserve to back out if your plan is shoddily constructed and not up to my standards."

Klaus grin is slow and satisfied and it causes some spectacularly dirty thoughts flit through Caroline's brain. She's just going to go ahead and blame the late hour and the fact that he shouldn't be _allowed_ to look like _that_ , not when he seemed so comfortable on her bed. She quickly pushes the flashes of fantasy aside, thankful she can blame any physical reactions – and Klaus can't have failed to notice the points of her nipples pressing against the thin satin of her nightgown – on the room's chill.

She wouldn't be going there, as much as the idea appealed. Klaus had made an excellent point the other day. Sex would complicate things and Caroline took a great deal of pride in her work. Screw ups were not her style.

Klaus rises, approaches her slowly with his hand extended. "Excellent. I think, sweetheart, that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

When his palm encloses hers, warm, firm and with just a hint of interesting callouses, Caroline wonders just what she's gotten herself into.

* * *

Half an hour later, perched on top of a toilet tank wearing ridiculously gorgeous couture and the best pair of heels she's ever owned, Caroline's mentally railing against Klaus' stupidly effective persuasion tactics. He'd won their quickly whispered argument handily, innocently pointing out that the sooner they finished up the sooner they could celebrate, and that they didn't even know how many people would actually show up.

Stupid flaky artists.

Really, in the end his promise to lick champagne from her nipples while she wore only his diamonds had been too good to resist. She's going to hold him to it, assuming she lives through the stress of the next hour or so.

Right now her heart's racing and she's totally ruining her manicure. Caroline had kicked the nail biting habit years ago – scraggly cuticles weren't going to cut it at Miss Mystic Falls - but sometimes, when her anxiety was extra high, she found herself gnawing on her thumb nail.

Even the sharp chemical taste of her polish isn't deterring her as she stares at the small screen resting in her lap, anxiously tracing the path of the little green dot that represents Klaus.

He's three minutes behind schedule, and counting, and Caroline needs him to move his distractingly well-formed ass before the extra security Silas Traveler had hired for this event cottons on to the fact that something's amiss. Klaus has already gotten the painting they're after, had switched it out with a dupe he'd painted himself. The hope was that no one would notice the theft for a good long while. As far as they knew Silas had no real art expertise, merely bought what he liked with his buckets of money, and they were banking on tonight's party goers being too drunk and distracted to look all that closely. The original painting been had packaged carefully and dropped out a window into a flower bed as per the plan they'd drawn up. They'll still need to pick it up but they had that covered too.

But Klaus has got to hurry _up_.

She rips her hand away from her mouth with a pitiful grumble, begins to toy with the bracelet Klaus had given her earlier on instead. It's supposed to be her good luck charm, and tracing the even infinity links _does_ ground her.

Her only other comfort at the moment is that at least she's in an amazing bathroom. There were _far_ worse places to have a minor mental breakdown. It's a ways off the ballroom, only three stalls, each with full length slatted doors – the kind you could see out of but no one could see into. She's in the middle one, has been since she and Klaus had slipped into the bathroom twenty eight minutes ago pretending to be a couple who couldn't keep their hands to themselves for one more minute. The people they'd passed in the hallway had been a blur, Klaus' hands and words a distraction as he'd alternately pressed her against walls and rushed her forward.

Still, it had been an act. Mostly.

Once locked into the stall Klaus had stripped off his tuxedo jacket, pressed a kiss to her cheek and murmured he'd see her soon, before hoisting himself up through a ceiling panel, leaving her to unstrap her tablet from her thigh (security had been checking purses) and get to work. She'd wanted to tell him to be careful but the words had stuck. Caroline's rarely ever on site with a client, thanks to the miracles of modern technology - all the better to keep her hands clean. And she'd never cared about a client the way she cared about Klaus. If something went wrong she wouldn't be able to calmly flee, pack her stuff up, and get the hell out of town to reassess.

They were in this together, something she's honestly thrilled about.

Even if it's a struggle to remember that right at this moment, when she's a ball of anxiety, all because she'd let Klaus charm her into playing the part of his tempestuous lover in addition to handling all the necessary hacking.

She was just going to go ahead and blame the dimples and ignore the little voice in her head that was insisting it was her own fault for letting herself be baited in their very first conversation. Klaus had zeroed in on the right buttons to push approximately three minutes after meeting her and poked them with relish. She might be an adult but Caroline had never quite learned how to turn down a dare.

"Come on, come on," she mutters. The dot stops, _again_ , and the sound of the bathroom door creaking open forces Caroline to swallow the expletive she'd been about to let loose. She taps her screen, flipping her view to the security feeds she'd hacked into and scrolls until she finds the cameras closest to where Klaus should be. She just catches sight of a door closing, swift but silent. She can't pick up the slightest hint of the sound despite the top notch earpiece she wears. Seconds later a pair of the high end rent-a-cops - they'd been an unwelcome surprise - round a corner. Their footsteps are muffled by the plush carpeting but they're not making any effort to be quiet, bickering about break schedules, and don't seem to be paying attention to their surroundings.

A minor setback, in all likelihood. Nothing to be alarmed about.

Still, Caroline holds her breath until they pass the room Klaus has chosen to hide out in, beginning to count once the hallway is clear again. Her exhalation comes out in a rush once she hits twenty when there's no sign of Klaus. She taps her earpiece, sends one long and two short bursts of static across the line – the subtle signal she and Klaus had worked out while they were borrowing this house's security frequencies.

She gets a reply immediately, two short staccato bursts, and the relief that flows through her is alarming. She pushes it away, mentally chastising herself. She knew this building backwards and forwards, had studied all the major players at this event, _knew_ they were all accounted for because she'd checked as Klaus had made his way through the vents. They were all schmoozing away in the ballroom (or, as in the case of Mrs. Nutty Billionaire, occupied with the young, hot chef in the kitchen pantry) blissfully unaware of what Caroline and Klaus were actually up to.

Logically she knows that there's little that could have possibly have happened to Klaus in a little used library. Unfortunately, anxiety wasn't logical, and her tendency to imagine the worst case scenario had gotten the best of her. Caroline swallows hard, grabs a piece of toilet paper and dabs at the sweat she feels accumulating on her forehead.

What she wouldn't give to be a couple blocks away in a sketchy van right now, where she could vent her careening emotions without anyone being the wiser.

The fact that her immediate reaction to the thought of Klaus being in danger had been dangerously close to panic can only mean one thing, that she's in even deeper than she'd realized.

Ugh. Caroline can't believe she actually _loves_ the smirky weasel.

* * *

Her stomach growls, loud and angry, and Caroline glances up to see Klaus hiding a smile behind the palm of his hand. He'd managed to use her building's doors this time, had shown up that morning at 11 (smart enough to give her a chance to sleep in) with coffee and a flash drive. He'd given her a few more specifics once admitted to her apartment, but not overly many. They were stealing a small painting from a man named Silas Traveler, he'd said. Apparently Klaus had once tried to buy it at auction, had been outbid, and had held a grudge about it ever since.

"That's it?" Caroline had asked, waiting for the rest. "What's the plan?"

Maybe she should have judged him more harshly for his pettiness but she wasn't exactly great at letting go of slights herself as any of the girls who'd been on her high school cheerleading squad could attest.

Klaus had grinned, and handed her the drive. "Elijah warned me that you like to form your own conclusions. Here's all the info I have. I'll lay out the plan I've been working on once you've had a chance to look it all over. I'm sure you'll enjoy tearing it to shreds."

Caroline had sniffed indignantly (her criticisms were always useful _and_ usually right) but accepted the offered drive, plugging it into her laptop and settling in to do some reading. She'd half expected Klaus to leave, but he'd plopped himself on her couch. At her questioning look he'd held up his hands, "I'll be silent as a mouse, love. I'm only here in case you have any questions." He'd pulled out his phone, become absorbed in what Caroline was pretty sure was a round of Draw Something.

She'd supposed that him staying made sense, and that it was more efficient to have him handy instead of making a list of things they'd need to go over later. So she'd merely nodded, and proceeded to tune Klaus out until something in his files needed clarification.

They'd whiled away a peaceful, almost companionable, afternoon. Caroline had barely noted the time passing, was surprised to see the darkened sky through her windows when she'd finally looked up.

Klaus waits for her to glance back at him, smiles genially when he has her attention, "Would you like to go out for dinner? My treat."

Caroline considers the offer, decides she _does_ need to eat. She sets her laptop down and stretches until her back pops audibly. "How do you feel about breakfast for dinner? I kind of want waffles."

"Then let's get waffles."

She beams at him, even if his easy agreeability makes her a little suspicious. "There's a place a few blocks away. We can walk."

They quickly get ready, slipping into shoes and tugging on jackets. She feels his eyes on her once they're outside, drifting away once she turns to look at him. "What? Caroline asks warily.

He glances her way appearing speculative, "Can I ask how you got into this? Why computers?"

Caroline rolls her eyes. It's not an uncommon question, she'd gotten all sorts of raised eyebrows back when she was applying for colleges. She'd kept her hobby to herself in high school, knowing it didn't fit into her carefully cultivated prom queen hopeful image. Once she'd gotten to Georgia Tech one of the older girls in her program had even recommended she get a pair of glasses, fake ones, because it helped a little in the being taken seriously department. Her intro classes had been filled with smarmy boys who'd earnestly offered to help her if the math got to be too much.

Flashing her grades, among the best in the class, after those initial quizzes had been highly satisfying.

"Why _not_ computers? Just because I'm blonde doesn't mean I'm an idiot," Caroline replies, knowing it's defensive.

Klaus shrugs, bumps his shoulder into hers gently, "I mean no offense, love. You're clearly brilliant and I imagine capable of a great many things. It's just curiosity."

Slightly mollified Caroline tips her head back as she considers, "I guess it started because I didn't want to get in trouble."

Klaus looks confused, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"My parent's got divorced when I was ten. My mom never got rid of her flip phone, wouldn't have touched a computer if she didn't have to. My dad left his behind when he moved out, saying something about how he knew I liked the games and messaging my friends. It pissed me off and I refused to go near it again for months."

Klaus nods in understanding, "Because you felt like it was a bribe."

"Kind of. He called me every week for a while, talked while I gave him monosyllabic answers. Then one week he didn't and I went at the computer with tools, dismantled it carefully and methodically into tiny pieces. I was sitting on my bedroom floor surrounded by all the different parts when my mom got home. And I panicked, swept it all under my bed before she could see it."

"Because you didn't want to get in trouble," Klaus says, understanding dawning.

"I knew computers were expensive, that she'd be angry at the waste, at the fact that I'd destroyed something because I was upset, even if she didn't actually use it. Instead of confessing I decided to fix it. Rode my bike to the library to use the internet, found some books. It took me two weeks to get it to turn on again but it worked. And I felt… accomplished. Figured I'd see if I could make it run better. And eventually I did. I found some message boards about programming, started teaching myself the codes. I was hooked, wanted to keep learning more. I grew up in a small town, entertainment options there are limited until you're old enough to sneak beers in the woods, you know? My mom's job kept her busy so I was stuck in the house alone a lot. And by the time I was old enough for boys and parties my love of tech was too ingrained, too soothing. I like that with computers things are logical, that there's always a path, you just need to find it."

"That makes a great deal of sense. How'd you get started in the…" Klaus trails off, gesturing between them.

Caroline smiles knowingly, "In the super shady use of computers for nefarious means line of work?"

"Yes. That."

"I was recruited. I was in a tight spot financially, kind of a mess personally, and the offer was good. Do you know of Pierce Industries?"

Distaste twists Klaus' face, "Unfortunately. Katherine is demonic and doggedly attached to my brother. I've had to endure her company far more often then I'd like."

Caroline stops in her tracks and turns to him, forcing Klaus' stride to pause too. "Wait, then why'd you get all weird about _me_ and Elijah?"

Klaus attempts to dodge, "How did you know I meant Elijah?"

"Please. I'm brilliant, remember? I know Kat and _of_ Kol. I'm positive that Kol's not Katherine's type. She'd end up skinning him alive."

"I suppose that's true." Klaus falls silent, and Caroline pins him with a look, letting him know that she's still waiting for an answer to her question, that she's not moving until he coughs it up. Klaus clears his throat and relents, "Elijah and Katherine aren't what I'd call… steady. Sometimes they loathe one another, sometimes they're inseparable. It's all terribly dramatic. Last I'd heard they were off again."

"So, what? You just assumed I've been biding my time, waiting to see what Elijah's packing under his suit? I can admit he's pretty to look at but so not my type."

Klaus shifts slightly, and had she not been looking for it carefully she would have missed it. Caroline grins, bounces on her toes. He's been so unflappable each time they'd met, entirely sure of himself. This is the first hint of discomfort she's ever seen from him and she likes that _she'd_ managed to inspire it.

Only fair given how easily Klaus had managed to get under _her_ skin.

"I thought it prudent to check," Klaus finally says, the words oddly formal. "To ensure there were no complications I should be aware of. That I…"

His teeth clink together audibly, cutting off the rest of the sentence, eyes closing briefly as he shakes his head in annoyance.

The _nice_ thing to do would be to drop it but Caroline's never been all that nice. "That you…" she prods.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. She can tell this isn't something he wants to explain, and she feels a pang of guilt for pushing him into it. Klaus' face is carefully blank of emotions, the words almost robotic when they come, "There was a period of time where Elijah and I did not speak. For three years, in fact. Because we fancied ourselves in love with the same woman and she refused to choose. It's not a mistake either of us will make again."

Caroline's eyes widen as his words sink in, "Oh. That's…"

Klaus sets his palm on the small of her back before she can stutter out an apology or, even worse, spit out some of the follow up questions she's dying to know the answers too. He urges her to get walking and Caroline does so automatically, still stuck on what Klaus had just imparted. Who exactly was this woman? How long ago had this all gone down?

And what, exactly, was it about _her_ that made a long passed romantic entanglement relevant? Maybe Caroline was crazy but it _sounded_ like Klaus was saying he'd felt the need to check that she wasn't involved with his brother. But why? Did he…

Klaus begins speaking again once they're moving in the restaurant's direction, his brisk tone making it obvious that the subject is closed, "I think we've exposed enough deep dark secrets for one evening, don't you? Now, on to more mannered subjects…"

* * *

She'd relaxed slightly when Klaus had safely left the floor that housed the gallery, knew it would only be a matter of minutes before he was back in front of her, where she could keep an eye on him. He's slipped into the duct work as planned, and Caroline had set to work in unlooping the cameras from the floor he'd just been on. There are no visual feeds where Klaus is now, only motion sensors, but she'd shuttered those earlier. Intent on her work she hadn't noticed a pair of women slipping into the bathroom. She's surprised to hear Klaus' name. Or, at least the name these people think of as his.

"…certainly a fine specimen. I thought he'd be unfortunate looking given how secretive he is."

Caroline can only see the back of the two women. The first is an icy blonde in a black ball gown and a the second wears her dark hair artfully pinned up to better show off her slim fitting silver number. One of them giggles, "That's mean, Mel. Besides, he's totally taken."

The first woman sighs, dramatic and mournful. Black Dress is apparently the one who's hot for Klaus, and she gestures dramatically as she speaks, "It sure does seem that way, doesn't it? At least I know he's into blondes. I can wait for a shot. That man can wear the _hell_ out of a tux. And did you see his hands? _Impressively_ long fingers."

They collapse into laughter again and Caroline's struck with a bolt of anger, has half a mind to fling the door open and tell the woman not to waste her time. She keeps still, clutching her tablet tightly, until the urge passes. It takes longer than it should considering the relatively innocent conversation. Caroline shakes her head at her own ridiculousness. Had she really tempted to blow this whole thing because of something as petty as jealousy?

The women keep talking, blithely unaware that Caroline, whom they've begun to discuss, is shamelessly eavesdropping.

"I think you'll be waiting an awfully long time. The way he looks at her? Sa-woon. What I wouldn't give for that kind of smoulder directed my way."

If _only_ they knew. It could be awfully hard to concentrate when Klaus was set on seduction. He and Caroline were lucky they'd hit the ground running on this job, had worked tirelessly in the first few weeks. He'd coaxed her into way too many breaks in the past few days. If they'd given in to their raging sexual tension earlier they wouldn't have had a hope in hell of getting all the prep work done.

The first woman makes a noise of agreement, sounding almost wistful, "I bet he's great in bed. All that focus _and_ great hands? Come on. Sign me up for _those_ muse duties."

They giggle quietly together, passing a compact back and forth, and Caroline has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing herself. Her anger had abated once it seemed clear that these women were harmless, that they saw that she and Klaus were something real. Now she only wishes that it were possible to embarrass Klaus by reciting this conversation later. In reality he'd probably eat it up, preen and agree with the praise.

Which yeah, fine. It was a pretty damn accurate assessment of some of his finer qualities.

She's startled by another burst of static in her ear, Klaus' signal that he's shortly incoming. She shakes herself, applies her attention back to her screen, mentally admonishing her lapse in attention. Sure, it was an easy task she'd paused in the midst of, and no one was likely to notice the feeds if they hadn't already. However, she couldn't afford to be sloppy. Not when they were only halfway through the evening.

There'd be plenty of time for Caroline to be distracted once they were safely back at their hotel. Klaus, she knew, would be delighted to assist.

* * *

"Yeah, no. This is _crime_. Why do you want to make a spectacle?" Day two of their brand new partnership and Klaus has just finished laying out the full details of the plan he had in mind. Caroline had known all along that her involvement was supposed to be more front line for this one, she just hadn't realized the extent. Sure, she'd taken a drama class to fulfill her humanities requirement as a college freshman, and maybe she was a smidge dramatic in general, but throwing a raging tantrum in front of the crème de la crème of the world's artists, art nerds and rich collectors was more than she'd expected.

"You've seen the guest list," Klaus points out reasonably. "Done your own research, yes?"

Grudgingly, she nods. Because of course she had. She and Klaus had parted ways last night, after a surprisingly enjoyable dinner (even though he was a weirdo who thought cooked fruit was gross) and she'd gotten back to work once he'd dropped her off at her apartment. They'd already established that she was a compulsive over achiever. The people who'd been invited to this party were certainly… interesting. There'd been at least half a dozen arrests for public indecency that she'd found on her search, many thinly veiled references to the use of drugs - mostly psychedelics - on social media, and a fair amount of unapologetic polyamory. It had been fairly entertaining reading and none of the people set to attend the ball were anything approaching boring.

Klaus continues, "Do any of the known guests seem like they know how to blend? Trying to fly under the radar with them will only make them look harder. And there will already be eyes on us because I never attend things like this."

Finding out that Klaus Mikaelson also made major _legitimate_ money as Niklaus Ansel, a sought after but reclusive painter, had been kind of a shock. His agent had passed along the invitation to this event, a ball and rare showing of Silas Traveler's extensive and varied art collection. Because Klaus had been trying to get his hand on the piece they were after for _years_ (this time by more nefarious means) but hadn't had any luck he'd taken the invite as a sign. He'd never been able to figure out just what continent it was even on because Silas had never actually hung the painting in any of his many, _many_ homes. Upon hearing that it was to be displayed at this ball, he'd told her, Klaus had known that he needed to act.

Caroline had noted the obsessive tendencies dubiously before asking more questions, focused on the mechanics of the job. She'd rolled her eyes when her role had been outlined - pretty arm candy, how original - taken copious amounts of notes when he'd given her an approximate timeline. Caroline had been cautiously pleased that he seemed fine with leaving the tech in her hands. Some men had a weird tendency to mansplain those aspects even though, by virtue of even knowing how to contact her, they should recognize that she knew her was around a computer.

Caroline had become quite adept at cutting _those_ meetings short. She'd rebuilt the computer her dad had left behind after her parent's divorce to make it faster when she'd been _eleven_. She doubted the men who questioned her skills and sought to micromanage her knew much more than to press the power button for ten seconds when a machine froze on them.

"So you really think making a giant scene is the way to go?" Caroline asks skeptically. It just seemed so counterintuitive to the way she usually operated.

" _Yes_. I'd wager we'll be witness to plenty of scenes, love. They'll all blend together in the end. No one will ever suspect we're there to do anything untoward. If, however, we seem shifty…"

Caroline bites her lip as she considers, staring blankly down at her notepad. Klaus doesn't attempt to press, sipping at his tea and appearing like he has all the time in the world to let her think things through. He seems very certain and Caroline knows he's far more familiar with this particular sect of society than she is. A tiny part of her even finds the idea of doing something like this, something crazy, kind of exciting. It was the sort of glamor and intrigue that movies about heists and plots were made of, that reality seldom matched. Eventually Caroline nods, "Alright, fine. I guess I _do_ owe you a slap for scaring the bejesus out of me when you Spiderman-ed up my building the other night. Plus, I kind of perfected storming out of a room thing when I was a teenager. I slam a mean door, let me tell you."

He shakes his head, tips his mug in her direction, "Just don't commit _too_ much, sweetheart. You know you like my face. I see the appreciative lingering your eyes do."

Caroline scoffs, "Really? Do we want to talk about eyes lingering? 'Cause yours were all over me the other night in my bedroom."

"Not something I'll deny," Klaus shoots back mildly, not a hint of shame evident. "The sight of you in bits of satin and lace was a treat I'd not expected. I must admit I find myself wondering about the parts of you that remained hidden, contemplating what it would be like to touch and taste you. What you might sound like when you're lost in pleasure."

Her mouth drops open, any hope of formulating a snappy reply lost with the way he's looking at her, heated and intent, as if he's willing to make good on his promises the moment she should she ask.

Damn him for turning this right around. The noise Caroline lets out is strangled and she gropes for a neat way to change the subject. It's difficult not to squirm because she can't deny that his words turn her on. That _Klaus_ turns her on. He's attractive, and not just physically. They've talked for hours and he's _smart_ , his mind sharp and creative. The blatant way he's just laid out his wants, not apologizing for the fact that he desires her, is a heady temptation.

Would it really be so bad, Caroline thinks, to climb in his lap right now? To see how talented his lush mouth is at things other than forming pretty words?

She stands abruptly, before her body can overrule her sense. She mumbles something about needing the bathroom, completely missing exactly what Klaus says as she flees. Does he sound amused? Caroline thought so. She was pretty sure he could read her conflicting emotions clear as day. That he relished them and was _trying_ to make her snap.

Well, that was just too bad. This was business. She _refused_ to allow it to get messy.

* * *

She'd known he was close, Klaus had sent the signal and she'd tracked his progress, but Caroline still startles when he drops out of the ceiling. He lands lightly on his feet, knees slightly bent, and the hand he'd held out to steady himself causes the stall to rattle slightly. The group of women near the sinks, _not_ the Klaus fans from earlier, pause in their primping to glance around.

Caroline doesn't even think about it, knows she has to do something before one of them gets it in their head to investigate. She parts her lips and lets out a soft but audible moan.

Klaus' eyes light up as he brushes off his pants and he gestures for her to hand him her tablet. Caroline does so and he stows it in his jacket, hanging on the hook on the stall's door waiting for him to put it back on. Then he's easing into her space, fingertips brushing the hem of her dress, flitting under to stroke her ankles. Her legs part as his hands drift up, her skirt pushed up to make way for his wandering hands. His thumb rubs a circle on the inside of her thigh as he leans in, lips dragging up her throat just before his teeth sink lightly into her earlobe. Caroline jolts and lets out a hiss, arching into him as her hands reach out to fist in his shirt and pull him closer.

"Just like that, sweetheart," he murmurs, making no attempt to be quiet. His stubble scrapes along her collarbone as his hands drift higher on her legs and Caroline barely hears the hastily muffled giggles of the women outside the stall. She thinks they leave, she vaguely registers the click of a door, but she doesn't really care. Her anxiety has melted into a different, much more pleasant, kind of tension, encouraged by the kisses Klaus is planting down the length of her sternum.

Her next sound of pleasure isn't faked, not when his hand has drifted up to stroke over the fine, nearly transparent, lace of the panties she's wearing. He's being gentle, teasing, and she feels the heat of his fingers more than anything else. It's not enough. She lifts her leg, hooking it around his hip, muscles flexing as she draws him closer. She touches her lips to his before meeting his eyes, "Kiss me. We gotta make it look real, right?"

The blue of Klaus' eyes darkens, a look Caroline knows well. He's taking her words as a challenge and his reply is soft, just for them, "Before this night is over you're going to tell me that it _is_ real, Caroline. We both know it."

She's momentarily confused but he's cupping the back of her neck and slanting his mouth over hers before she can fumble for a reply and the hot sweep of his tongue makes words impossible. Reason drifts away next as his fingers tug her panties aside, a single fingertip teasing her entrance. She's already a little damp and he lets out a pleased rumble against her mouth. Klaus hasn't really touched her in hours, which doesn't _seem_ long but they'd spent the bulk of the previous week in some stage of undress, skin to skin. She's hungry for him and he's done plenty of teasing this evening, held her close and whispered filthy promises when they'd danced.

The kiss is intense, each of them fighting to gain the upper hand. He tastes like champagne and she sucks it from his tongue, clutching his shoulders to feel the weight of him against her, rubbing her breasts against his chest, moaning at the friction the fabric of her dress provides. Her lipstick will be irreparable by the time they're done, and she's sure her dress will no longer be flawless, but that's the plan. Klaus pulls back, applies his lips to her throat, scraping with his teeth, a mark that will surely be visible when they leave.

She's enjoying herself, would be even with the added bonus of their activities making their absence from the ball more plausible. Their appearance will provide an alibi if things go pear shaped and the missing art is somehow discovered before they were free and clear. Klaus' low hum is approving as he circles her entrance, slickening his fingers before tracing her folds and finding her clit. He pulls back, urging her to recline against the wall behind her as she makes to follow. She flashes him a pout and his fingers still, brow lifting in question. Caroline reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can even think about moving his hand, keeping it firmly pressed against her as she rocks her hips, eyes fluttering shut at the increased pressure of the fingers he presses inside of her. The weight of his gaze, the way he drinks in her pleasure, is almost too much.

"So lovely when you're like this, Caroline. Greedy. Taking what you want from my hands." His voice has deepened and it's her favorite tone of his. She'd imagined it before he'd ever touched her like this, but the reality of it was better, the way he grew hoarse and demanding as his body tightened while his control frayed never failed to make her want him more.

She reaches to ease the shoulder of her dress aside, skimming her fingers along the deep vee and wincing slightly as the tape that had kept it in place pulls at her skin. Klaus's mouth, hot on her nipple as soon as it's bared, makes her forget the pain and she slides her hand into his hair to keep him in place. He sucks hard as his fingers work inside of her, his thumb rolling over her clit at infrequent intervals. Her thighs twitch at every direct pass, she's beginning to ache as she instinctively tries to trap him, draw him deeper, but her legs bracket his hips, thwarting her attempts to close them around his hand.

She sucks in a shaky breath and tries to reason with him, "Klaus. We're already behind, oh!"

The slight sting of his teeth on the slope of her breast, quickly soothed by a lick just as he curls the fingers he's fucking her with obliterates her concerns about their schedule. He teases the spot inside of her that never fails to make her fall apart expertly and she clenches down hard against his fingers, mouth dropping open around a sigh. She yanks him towards her as she feels her orgasm cresting, biting into his clothed shoulder to muffle her scream. Caroline's hips jerk harshly as she comes, porcelain scraping with the violence of her reaction. She wants to cringe - the sound wasn't exactly subtle and she has no idea how alone they are - but can't focus on anything but the release, the waves and waves of bliss Klaus has caused, the way he knows just how to touch her to prolong it.

She'd thought he'd just been teasing earlier, when he'd murmured that he couldn't wait to make her come when they were alone. He seems determined to fulfill the rest of his dirty promises, peeling her panties down her legs while she's lax and pliant. The inside of her thighs are soaked with her arousal and Klaus drags a fingertip through the slickness. He tucks her panties into his pocket before he traces her lips with his wet finger, "I want you to feel your thighs slipping together when we dance later. I want you to remember _why_ until you're slick and hot and desperate. Later, when we're alone, and I can make you scream, will you beg me to fuck you properly, Caroline?"

She gulps, takes in his determined expression. He's done it before, yes. Knows he can make her do it again, Still, doesn't mean she's going to make it easy on him.

Klaus' groan is harsh, pushed out through his teeth, when she traps his finger between her lips, holding his gaze steadily as she sucks it into her mouth. She tastes herself, bitter-tart and musky, and the salt of his skin beneath and the familiar combination sends a new pulse of interest between her thighs.

Klaus looks ravenous, jaw clenched tight as she swirls her tongue in exactly the pattern he likes around his cock, and Caroline wishes they weren't on a time crunch because she'd like nothing more than to gather her skirts in her hand and help him take care of the prominent bulge tenting the fine fabric of his tuxedo trousers. His expression is pained as he pulls away, smoothing her skirt back into place with a regretful sigh. He helps her to her feet, steadying her as she sways on her heels for a moment, her legs still the slightest bit uncooperative. He watches her as she rights her dress, tucking her breast back behind the fabric and attempting to straighten the rest of it. He smiles slightly, "Don't bother, love. Mussed is the look we're going for, right? In fact…"

His hands delve into her hair, sifting through the spill of waves. She should complain - it had taken hours to get the smooth fall she'd been after, but it feels too good and she leans into his touch.

 _And_ he's right. She _should_ look well fucked when they get back to the ballroom. That way the less than pristine state of Klaus' tux – it's dishevelment a product of crawling through venting and sneaking around unauthorized areas - won't be noted.

Her hair's a riotous mess about her shoulders when Klaus is satisfied and, judging by the state of _his_ lips, she'd been right about her lipstick being a lost cause. Still, the heat and affection and tiny bit of wonder that he's come to look at her with remains. "There," he says. "You are stunning."

Caroline can't help grinning, because she's come to realize that he really _means_ it when he says things like that, and that he's not just talking about her appearance. She grabs his arm before he can pull away, reaches up in an attempt to clean up the berry stain that had transferred to his lips from hers with her thumb. She gets most of it, "Am I presentable?" he asks, once she steps back.

"Totally. I'd kiss you again, but it would ruin all my work."

He shrugs on his jacket, and Caroline straightens his tie. He grabs her hand before it drops, kisses the back of it. It's such a cheesy perfect rom com gesture that Caroline giggles helplessly as he tows her out of the stall. "I'll take a rain check, then," he tells her, wrapping his arm around his waist. "Let's finish this up, shall we?"

* * *

When she finally comes out of the dressing room, the first thing she notices is how _bored_ Klaus looks. He's sprawled on the boyfriend chair, a flute of champagne held loosely in his fingers, eyes glazed as he stares at nothing. Phones were strictly verboten in the fitting room area and Caroline had refused to provide a fashion show. He might be paying for the dress but she wasn't letting him pick it. His eyes snap to hers when he realizes she's emerged, brow furrowing in disappointment when he takes in her sundress. "Did you find something?"

"Yep! It needs some slight alterations. I'll pick it up next week before we fly to New Orleans."

His eyes narrow, "I really don't get to see it?"

"I've been dressing myself for twenty-seven years, Klaus. And I think I do a pretty good job."

His gaze sweeps downward, distinctly appreciative, "I won't argue, of course. But this event is…"

Caroline interrupts, "Fancy. Gonna be filled with peacock types and I can't look like a wallflower. Trust me, I know and I selected appropriately."

The dress was teal, long sleeved and low cut, the material shimmering and filmy offering tantalizing peeks of skin. When consulting with the sales associate they'd agreed to cut the nude modesty lining short, leaving her legs bare behind the sheer overskirt. Was it evil to use Klaus fondness for her legs against him? Probably. But he had to know what he was doing to her every time he pushed up his sleeves.

The woman who'd assisted her had chuckled as she'd scribbled on the order form, "Sure you don't want to let your young man take a peek? I can give you two a couple minutes alone. I'm sure a man like that knows how to show his appreciation for a beautiful woman."

Caroline had declined, implying that she wanted to surprise him. It was only a half truth. While she was looking forward to the look on Klaus' face – she was betting on a little jaw dropping – she also kind of feared it. They'd been working together for two weeks now and every day it goes a little better. He's learned how she thinks, and vice versa, and Caroline's already confident that they'll pull this job off without a hitch.

Unfortunately, spending so much time with Klaus was not without its down sides. Namely, the fact that the urge to jump his bones would not go away.

Seriously, Caroline's hormones hadn't raged this hard since she was a teenager and it had long since crossed the line from frustrating to maddening.

Klaus feels it too, doesn't try to hide it. Refuses to look away first when the tension between them grows. It's always Caroline who beats a hasty retreat, flees to slap some cold water on her face and give herself a get it together pep talk. She's invented errands that take them to public places, rationalizing that the temptation will lessen with other people around. It helps, kind of, until kindly older ladies hint that she should drag him into the fitting room with her for a little afternoon delight and Caroline takes several moments where she seriously contemplates actually _doing_ it.

If he'd seen her in that dress, in a small private space, Caroline knew he would have offered to peel it off of her. And she would have said yes because getting herself off and imagining her hands were his was getting _really_ old.

Klaus apparently realizes arguing was pointless, demonstrating yet again that he'd come to know her well, and unfolds himself from his seat. "Might I have a hint? Rebekah owes me several favors and I'd planned to dip into her collection of jewels, borrow something for you to wear."

Ugh, so tempting.

She bites her lip and gives in, "It's teal. But not a necklace. It'll ruin the effect of my boobs."

Klaus expression flashes great interest and his eyes trace the more modest neckline of her day appropriate dress. "Noted," he replies, an edge of hoarseness there.

Caroline makes herself ignore it, even if she's dying to drop more hints and see just what kind of reactions she can pull from Klaus. Can she make his hands shake if she mentions that she'll have to skip a bra? Instead she whirls from him, taking a calming breath. "Come on. I still need shoes."

* * *

People _look_ at them when they re-enter the ballroom and Caroline assumes their appearance tells the story they'd meant it too. There's the odd face pinched in disapproval but it's mostly amusement, indulgent and even admiring. There's a couple looks of envy, men eyeing Klaus jealously, women's eyes raking over Caroline with cool assessment. She notes all of this distantly, her attention split between Klaus' hand, heavy on her hip, and mentally rehearsing the fake fight they're about to have.

She _knows_ she can fight with Klaus, they'd spent the first few weeks of this job bickering regularly about things both ridiculous and relevant to their success. They haven't lately, too wrapped up in exploring the new _intimate_ aspects of their relationship. In fact, Caroline realizes, with a touch of alarm, they haven't done much talking at all.

Klaus' odd words before he'd kissed her in the bathroom come floating back. Was it possible that they weren't on the same page?

She'd have to fix that.

He leads her to the center of the dance floor as the music shifts, the song fading out to be replaced by something slower, with a sultry pulse. He drags her body into his, until the front of her is plastered along the length of him. He's still hard, his cock pressed to her stomach as they begin to move. She rests one hand on his shoulder, but dodges his when he makes to clasp her free one in his. They're hardly dancing the proper way, are they? She watches him intently, smirking as he stiffens when Caroline lets her hand slide down his chest.

She cups him through his pants briefly, stroking until a harsh grunt rumbles out of him. His eyes flash when she pulls away and Caroline tucks her head into his shoulder to hide her smile. "You'll pay for that later," he mutters.

Caroline certainly hopes so.

They fall into a rhythm easily, even though they've never actually practiced this. Klaus is an excellent lead and when he moves to twirl her she goes with a laugh. One that cuts off abruptly when he pulls her back, pressing his thigh between hers, he watches her carefully, putting pressure against where she's still hot and wet for him as they move. The hand he's got on her back dips lower and she grinds helplessly for a moment. She'd come not ten minutes ago, is still swollen and sensitive, not to mention bare beneath her dress, and Klaus freaking knows it if the sly, taunting grin he sends her is any indication.

He leans in close, and she shivers at his breath against her neck, "I need you to look angry, Caroline. Can you do that?"

She huffs, "Well, you are _super_ annoying a lot of the time so…"

He muffles his laugh against her skin. "So you say. Usually when you're trying to deny that you enjoy my company."

It's on the tip of her tongue to argue, it's just an instinct at this point, but she presses her lips together to stop the words. It would be lies, she knows that and Klaus _should_ know that by now, so what's the point?

He draws back at her silence, brow furrowed in curiosity. "That's pensive, love. Not quite what we're aiming for. Do you need a little inspiration? How about the reminder of the first time we were supposed to dance together? We got a bit derailed, but I did take you to that club to practice this. You were quite cross with me that night, as I'm sure you'll recall."

She pinches his side as the memory floods in, partly in retribution (even if she's already made him pay _extensively_ ) and partly for the new stab or lust it sends racing through her. Klaus flinches, reaching out to trap her hand against his body. Caroline returns it to his shoulder, glaring at him. "Yeah," she hisses, "because that was _mean_. You don't leave a girl hanging like that, Klaus."

"Mean, and misguided, yes. It was in some ways effective, however."

"What? Effective how? I didn't talk to you for like three days, remember?"

Klaus twirls her again and Caroline's breath leaves her in a surprised squeak. She hadn't been expecting it and this time she stumbles when she hits his chest. Klaus words are low, urgent, and he presses his forehead to hers. "We're both excellent at what we do, sweetheart. The lost planning time didn't matter, did it? I missed you during those days, yes. As I told you when you came to me. But you admitted that you wanted me while you stewed over my punishment, didn't you? Something I'd not trade for anything."

She softens, resting her palm on his cheek, "You're lucky it didn't take me longer."

Klaus lips brush against hers, sweet like his next confession, "I'm well aware of your stubbornness. I rather enjoy it."

Caroline laughs, thick and the slightest bit watery with emotion, her pulse picking up as warmth floods her. She pulls back, mostly because she has to if they're ever going to get back on track, and glances around the room. "We're doing an awful job at pretending to have a lover's spat."

Klaus hums an agreement, "Maybe I shouldn't have let you come in the bathroom. It made you spectacularly ill-tempered last time."

She narrows her eyes in warning, determined to nip that thought in the bud. "Listen, for future reference I'm down for a little orgasm delay play. I am _not_ into denial. At all. I like getting off, thank you very much."

She expects him to tease her but his eyes have sharpened, grown assessing, "Future reference, hmm? It's interesting that you think I need to know that given you've been pretty insistent that our success tonight will be the end of our association."

Caroline blinks at him, confused. "What? Klaus…"

"You've said so yourself. Multiple times. Have you changed your mind?"

She can't believe that he thinks she hadn't. She tries again, scrambling for words, "Klaus, I…"

He pulls away from her, movements abrupt. His voice grows louder, and he swings his arms out in a wild gesture of frustration. "Don't," he bites out harshly, "lie to me. After everything we've been through don't I deserve _more_ than that?"

Her mouth has fallen open, the wild shift in their conversation has her reeling and she knows she's gaping unattractively. Klaus spins sharply away from her, calling acidly over his shoulder, "Find me when you figure it out, darling. I need a drink."

It's only then that she notes the interested stares, the couples who've lost the beat of the music because they're watching Klaus storm off. He'd taken her part, given her a neat opportunity to slip out the ballroom doors and retrieve the painting as planned. She takes it, dropping her eyes and blinking rapidly like she's trying to hold back tears as she makes a hasty retreat from the dancefloor.

Caroline was both impressed and annoyed. Klaus _knew_ she hated improvisation and they would be having words about this later. _After_ they talked about the fact that she'd come to accept that there would _be_ a later, and that apparently he hadn't.

Seriously, when she'd been worried about sex getting messy this was not what she'd had in mind. Caroline had thought she'd made herself clear, made it known that she was all in, even if she hadn't said those exact words.

A mistake she'll be rectifying as _soon_.

* * *

Glancing around the club Klaus had insisted they attend tonight Caroline's feeling a little incredulous. They'd just arrived in New Orleans that morning, and he'd told her they needed to practice something for the heist and to dress for a night out. Annoyingly, he'd beaten a hasty retreat before Caroline could demand more details, hidden himself away somewhere (she'd even cloned his key card and checked that he wasn't in his room when he refused to respond to her calls). She'd been grumpy when Klaus had swung by to pick her up but the beignets, warm and sugary delicious, he'd shown up had softened her somewhat.

At the moment they're tucked away on an upper balcony, with an excellent view of the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. The level they're on is private, had been roped off until Klaus chatted with the man who'd led them here. His name was Marcel and Klaus had introduced him as an old friend. Marcel had kissed her hand, complimented her outfit, and told her to enjoy herself before leaving her and Klaus to their own devices. It's quieter here above the speakers so when Caroline turns to him she doesn't have to shout, "Uh, pretty sure _that_ isn't the kind of dancing we'll be doing. The ball is going to be canapes and champagne. Not neon shots and street cart hot dogs. Trust me, I've seen the vendor order forms."

Klaus smirks, "There's a menu here, actually. Marcel prides himself on providing some of the best food in New Orleans."

"Not exactly the point I was trying to make, smartass."

Klaus shakes his head, lips curling slightly into a genuine smile. He slips behind her instead of replying, sweeping her hair over one of her shoulders so her neck is bare. She stiffens in surprise, her hands gripping the railing in front of her tightly as she fights not to melt into the line of his body.

Klaus presses the lightest of kisses to her nape, she feels him inhale as his nose brushes her hairline, "You go out of your way not to touch me, Caroline."

"I do not," she spits out, craning her head to look at him. Klaus throws her a look of disbelief, crowding her against the railing, setting his hands next to hers.

"Please. Do not insult my intelligence. We've met nearly daily for nearly three weeks. You push your chair into the table when I approach you when you're working, go out of your way to ensure your fingers never brush mine when we pass papers or pens. You refuse to occupy the same sofa as I do when we eat, curl yourself into a ball in your armchair when I walk passed you, like you won't even risk your legs brushing mine. You're not subtle, sweetheart."

Maybe you're just paranoid," Caroline mutters, turning away and avoiding his stare. She can't believe he's bringing this up. She'd thought they had a perfectly serviceable don't ask don't tell policy going on and he's ruining it.

"That I am," Klaus agrees, resting his head on his shoulder. "Doesn't mean I'm not right. And it just won't do. Not if we're supposed to convince a few hundred people that we're desperately in love."

Caroline wants to argue but rationally she knows Klaus has a point. "Fine," she tells him. "We can practice. _Don't_ push it."

Klaus hums and she feels the vibration more than she hears the sound. "Why does it have to be practice? Would it really be so bad, Caroline? To explore what's between us?"

Shit. He was really going to go there.

Caroline pulls away and Klaus takes a step back as she spins to face him though his hands linger on her hips. "Um, yes. Yes it would. You said it yourself when you thought I was banging your brother. Mixing business with sex is messy. I like neat, tidy, orderly. Letting myself touch you would be a mistake."

A brief flash of something that might be hurt crosses Klaus' face before he settles back into a challenging posture. "Trust me, it wouldn't." He skims his hand up her bare arm, as if to demonstrate, eyes glued to his hands on her flesh, and Caroline's skin prickles as she tries her hardest not to lean into him.

Why does it have to feel so _good_?

She inhales sharply as goosebumps break out on her skin. Klaus appears pleased. "You can't deny that you react to me."

"Reactions don't _mean_ anything," Caroline insists weakly, turning back around.

"I disagree," Klaus rumbles. She can feel the heat of him once more at her back, his hands shifting to rest on her stomach. It's a fairly neutral position, his touch doesn't wander up or down to anywhere interesting, yet it raises her temperature dramatically.

"Look, I haven't had sex with anything not rechargeable in a while," Caroline explains, hoping she sounds reasonable. "It's just hormones, okay?"

Klaus grip on her tightens and Caroline curses herself. Had she really just _said_ that? God, how mortifying.

Unfortunately, she can't seem to stop talking. "Vibrators get the job done just fine but it's predictable, you know? I just need to set it on my clit, cycle through the speeds and boom, orgasm achieved. It scratches the itch but it's just not as fun."

"Caroline," Klaus grits out, voice tight. He's like stone at her back, the arm around her tense. "If your aim is to convince me that sex between us is a bad idea you really shouldn't be telling me about how you touch yourself."

She winces, "Yeah, fair point. I'm sorry. I just talk when I'm nervous."

"I like it," Klaus tells her, lips brushing her skin once more. "Tell me why you're nervous. We get on, don't we? I'd say we're almost friends."

"Yeah, which is yet another thing that sex would make weird."

They'd been spending a lot of time together, having just over a month to pull off a pretty tricky bit of work. The estate the ball was being held at was remote, an hour outside of New Orleans, making the usual surveillance difficult. A car parked in the area for hours on end would definitely be noted. She'd dug up what info she could from financial records, knew the company who'd designed Silas' system well. She'd have to do the bulk of the infiltration on the fly, as she and Klaus waited in the car for a free valet.

Caroline's confident she can do it, Klaus seems to believe in her too. Still, she wants to have every variable accounted for and they've spent long hours together, buried in research, running over possible scenarios both likely and not, and sometimes just talking.

Klaus is every bit as arrogant and calculating as she'd first assumed. He's also surprisingly excellent company and makes her laugh pretty much every day. That initial attraction had deepened even as she'd done her best to bury it. Giving in now could very well be disastrous.

Klaus seems determined to convince her otherwise and Caroline feels her resolve crumbling, as he speaks coaxingly against her neck, "It doesn't have to be weird, sweetheart."

"Famous last words."

His sigh is exasperated, "We work exceptionally well together, don't we? Who's to say that won't be enhanced rather than ruined if we do more than just work together? Will you think about it?"

He'll press, she knows, until she agrees. Caroline nods stiffly and allows herself a moment to soak in the feeling of having him wrapped around her. It's nice and Caroline kind of hates that it's about to be over. But Klaus surprises her, repeating her earlier words. "Fun," he says, a trace of something hard and resolved in the word. "In the meantime I can do fun. Let me show you." Slowly, like he expects her to stop him, his hand drifts lower until he's tracing the short hemline of her skirt. "Will you let me, Caroline?"

God, how was she supposed to _resist_ that?

She _should_ try, not muddy things further until she's had the time to think this through logically, but she's nodding before she can dig deep for any sort of willpower. She can feel his cock pressing into her ass, knows her panties have dampened as they'd spoken. She's probably wet enough that he could bend her over this railing and slip inside, and she bites back a moan at the thought. Caroline reaches up and behind her, intent on touching him too, on not letting this opportunity pass. Maybe, she tells herself, they just need to get it out of their systems. Her fingertips have just brushed his neck when Klaus grabs her hand and stills it. "Oh no," he rasps. "Not yet."

Caroline's about to ask what he means but he steps away, grabbing her hand and towing her deeper into the shadows. She can just make out a few dark shapes, furniture from the looks of it, but Klaus seems to know his way around, leading her with sure steps. He urges her to sit when her calves hit a chair and Caroline gulps when he drops to his knees in front of her as soon as she does.

Yeah, she's thought about this. Extensively.

He pushes her skirt up, "I think, sweetheart, that you need a little incentive."

Klaus ducks his head without further preamble, licking her through her underwear. Caroline arches up, thighs spreading to give him more room, reaching for his hair, lips parting in shock, "Jesus. You're not wasting any time are you?"

"I think I've wasted enough already." Klaus eyes her hungrily, wetting his lips. "I've wanted you since you eyed me so suspiciously that first afternoon, so prim and buttoned up at that perfect table, but with such fire in your eyes."

He presses his fingers to her, rubs her clit through her underwear and Caroline bites her lip to stop from moaning, "You were a dick," she manages breathlessly.

"And yet you liked me anyway." Caroline can't deny it, especially not with the motions of his fingers, still teasing her through fabric. "Take off your shirt," he demands softly.

Caroline hesitates, because they're technically in public, shadowy and deserted as this balcony is. "I…"

Klaus reads her expertly, hands kneading her thighs soothingly. "No one will come up here, Caroline. I promise. Let me see you."

She can't resist the covetous way he's watching her, his face tight with strain, and she peels her tank off, letting it flutter from her fingers and land on the floor. Her bra's strapless and she pushes it down before she can let shyness take over. She trusts Klaus, Caroline realizes. A fact she's going to have to consider at great length later, when this is over and she's alone. His eyes drop to her breasts, avid and greedy, "You're beautiful, Caroline. I can't wait to have you in a bed."

Caroline laughs breathlessly, attempts a joke, "Beds are kinda serious, aren't they? I thought this was just fun."

Klaus' head tips to the side, jaw setting mulishly, "We'll see," he murmurs darkly. Caroline's about to reply, something to keep this playful, because she senses that Klaus has some kind of agenda happening here and it worries her. His hands wrap around her thighs, tugging her down, and all that comes out is a squeak as he hitches one of her legs over his shoulders so she's wide spread before him. Her panties are clinging to her, wet with her arousal, and Caroline squirms, one part embarrassment that he can see how much she wants him, two parts anticipation. Klaus hooks a finger around the fabric to keep it out of the way and then his mouth is on her.

He goes deep on the first pass, a firm swipe of his tongue through her folds. This is no tentative exploration, Klaus focuses on her clit immediately, humming his pleasure as he latches on to the bundle of nerves. Her mouth opens around a pant, head falling back as her hands scrabble at the leather beneath her because she needs _something_ to hold on to as he works her up. She's tensing lightning fast, stomach clenched tight and thighs shaking under his hold. Klaus doesn't try to stop her from moving, lets the frantic jerks of her hips tell him what to do.

He is unfairly good at this.

When she arches up he slows, lazy swirls and light pressure. When she relaxes he quickens the pace, all rapid flicks and suction. She knows she's babbling nonsense, pleas and curses and his name, all thankfully covered by the club's music. She's breathing in ragged bursts, so, so close. She'd come if he sucked, if he slipped his fingers inside of her, and she's trying to find the words to tell him so.

Before she _can_ Klaus stops.

Flat out _stops_.

She gapes at him as he sits back on his heels, no longer touching her _anywhere_ , something her body finds completely unacceptable. Klaus stills, heavy lidded eyes tracing over her sprawled, quivering form. He licks his lips slowly, savoring her taste and Caroline's pussy clenches in reaction. "What the fuck?" Caroline manages on a gasp, suspended on a raw edge of pleasure pain as she struggles to process what has happened.

His grin is sly and he drops a chaste kiss to her knee, "Come on. Don't tell me that wasn't _fun_? Tell me you want _more_ , Caroline. Let me give you more."

Oh no he did _not_.

Caroline sits up, suddenly livid, yanking her skirt down with shaky hands and ignoring the throbbing ache between her legs. "Oh my god. You're trying to manipulate me with sex. Seriously?!" Caroline sets her hand on his shoulder and shoves. Klaus sways, eyes wide and beginning to grow alarmed, and she's _glad_.

"What happened to _friends_? I _said_ I'd think about it and you do this?"

His expression turns stricken, "Caroline, I didn't mean…"

She cuts him off with a vicious slice of her hand, "Give me my shirt. _Now_."

Klaus hastily bends to the side to pick it up, handing it to her immediately. Caroline pulls it on, righting her bra as she gets to her feet. Klaus follows, watching her with trepidation and keeping his distance. "You didn't mean what?" she bites out. "To attempt to hypnotize me with your tongue so I'd forget why this is a bad idea? Your reputation as a manipulative asshole is well known, I just didn't think you'd try that shit on me." She lets out a noise, strangled and disgusted, and moves to brush passed him. "I can't _believe_ you. Why would you push this if you were just going to…" she finishes with a frustrated groan, groping for words that could manage to describe just how _angry_ she is.

"Wait, let me explain."

There's an urgency, maybe a little desperation in Klaus' tone, and Caroline finds her steps slowing. She faces him warily, crossing her arms. "You get one freaking sentence to make this okay, Klaus. Make it good."

His mouth opens, closes. The silence between them stretches until she's just about to give up on him. She takes a step back in warning and words spill from Klaus in a frantic rush. "I _want_ messy. With you. I thought I could convince you that you want it too. I know we could be good together, Caroline."

His explanation is far less elegant than she'd been expecting and that more than anything is what hits her hard. "That's four sentences," she tells him woodenly, refusing to soften.

Klaus' reply, a simple, "I know," is defeated though he refuses to look away from her.

"Don't call me," she tells him coldly. "I need a couple days."

This time she doesn't wait for an answer, makes her way to the stairs without a backwards glance.

* * *

When Caroline slips outside she lets out a sigh of relief, even though it's pretty damn chilly and she can see her breath. She'll live with it, because it was nice not to have to keep up the façade she'd been hiding behind all night, to not have to be so aware of her every move and all the potential eyes on her, at least for a few minutes. Caroline's only been at this party for a few hours but it had been a roller coaster and it feels like it's been _way_ longer. It's dark, but the estate and grounds have smooth white stone paths that are easily visible in the moonlight. Caroline pulls her phone from her oversized clutch knowing it's more discrete than her tablet in the event that she happened across anyone else. She knows roughly where Klaus had dropped the painting, of course, but the storage tube has a tracker embedded and she'd set it to sync to her phone.

Her shoes are gorgeous and she really didn't want to risk ruining them unless she absolutely had to. She hums to herself as she walks along the stones that circle the house, glancing around to make sure she's alone. Luckily the grounds seem deserted, no sign of life except the chirping crickets and rustle of foliage, the guests choosing to stay toasty and entertained indoors.

She keeps walking until she's right in front of the bush the painting _should_ be situated in, the red of the dot representing her aligned with the blue of the tracking beacon's on her phone's screen. Caroline reaches up and taps her earpiece to let Klaus now she's in position. His return signal is quick, meaning he'll be along shortly and Caroline shifts restlessly, rubbing her arms to try to keep warm. In truth, she's kind of beyond ready for this evening to be over, to sink into a little bit of boring. Her heels are beginning to pinch and she's starving, too nervous to have eaten much today. She'll have to convince Klaus to hit a drive through on the way back to the hotel. Room service would take too long.

Plus, she had plans for when they got back. She didn't want to count her chickens but it was looking like they were going to pull this off. A celebration was going to be in order.

She tenses when she hears footsteps approaching, attempts to look sad and forlorn just in case it's a wayward party guest, maybe even a Good Samaritan or an opportunistic creep coming to check on her, and not Klaus. Her acting skills prove to be unnecessary as Klaus ambles into sight, making his way towards her. He's undone his bowtie and has his jacket draped over his arm, his hair a little more mussed, like he's been running his hands through it. He offers her the jacket as soon as he nears and Caroline slips it on gratefully. "Thanks," she tells him, pulling her hair from the collar. "How'd it go in there?"

Klaus smirks, "Silas himself approached me at the bar. Offered me his best bourbon. Was _full_ of helpful advice, told me not to be so stupid as to let someone like you slip through my fingers over a little spat. He was rather admiring of you, love."

She feigns a modest shrug, "Well, we _are_ stealing his art so we know he has good taste. Speaking of…" she nods towards the shrubbery. "Wanna finish the job so we can get out of here?"

"In a hurry to leave? I thought you wanted to stay for the unveiling, gloat a little internally at the culmination of a job well done?"

"Changed my mind. If you want to watch people ooh and ahh over your painting that's fine. I just thought we had some celebrating to do."

"Mmm, my promise about the champagne?"

"Among other things. I'm hungry though, so I thought we'd eat first. Maybe talk a little?" her voice wavers towards the end, betraying her nerves, and Caroline bites her lip and studies her toes while she waits for Klaus to call her on it.

He steps a little closer, clears his throat. "I suppose you'll want to let me know where I can send your payment?" He sounds carefully resigned, far too blank, and Caroline _hates_ it. "You could always text me your account numbers. It would be exceedingly _tidy_. Just as you prefer."

Her head snaps up, and she reaches for him. She's incredulous that she'd been right about why Klaus had been acting oddly and she wants to _shake_ him for being so dense but settles for shoving him gently. "Oh my god, are you serious? I know we've kinda been lost in a sex haze but come _on_. Do you really think I'd walk away and send you a freaking _bill_?"

Klaus looks mystified, "You never said anything about the future. You'd mentioned numerous times various plans you had for when this was done. Plans that didn't include me."

"Yeah, _before_ that night in your hotel room. I figured that was a big fat clue that I'd changed my mind. What happened to the guy spinning grand plots to woo me until I cracked?"

He rocks back on his heels, shoving his hands in his pockets. Caroline's fairly certain that he's trying not to smile, a smart play because she's still incredibly annoyed. How could he not have realized how drastically he affected her? "I confess I still had many, many plans, Caroline. I merely thought to let you go in hopes that the old adage about distance would prove true. That when I tracked you down you'd be less resistant to my pursuit because you'd have recognized how very fond you've grown of me."

"You are so conceited," she hisses, throwing up her hands in exasperation.

"You like it," he shoots back, far too pleased with himself. He steps into her, head dipping until his lips brush hers. He pulls back when she tries to deepen it, because of course he can't resist pushing it. "Because you are very, _very_ fond of me, Caroline Forbes."

She rolls her eyes and nudges him away before he can distract her and get the last word. They both liked to have it and Caroline suspected it was a battle they'd have often for a very long time. She presses her hand to his mouth when he leans in again. "No, you idiot, I am not _fond_ of you. I love you."

He rears back and Caroline wants to shout in triumph at the open look of shock Klaus wears, his lips slack and eyes wide. Speechless was a very good look on him. She takes a moment to savor it before tipping her head towards the bush pointedly, "Sometime today," she sing songs, making a show of crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

Klaus startles, her joke knocking him out of his stunned stupor, and Caroline twirls on her heel, trusting he'll get the job done. "Meet me at the valet stand," she tosses over her shoulder, hurrying away.

Last word, check. She's totally counting this one as a win.

* * *

Klaus had listened to her, kept his distance. His room's across the hall from hers and she'd peeked out a few times when she'd heard him entering and exiting. He seems to be spending extra time at the gym, and looks worn and tired, paler than he should. _Not_ that she's sympathetic.

He totally deserves to suffer a little.

She's mostly stuck to her room, ordering room service and indulging in some online shopping between bouts of pacing, pro con list making, and comfort movie marathons.

On the third day when she hears him leave his room Caroline acts. She counts to twenty before throwing open her own door, darting across the hallway and letting herself into Klaus' room (that copied key card once more coming in handy). She hadn't snooped last time, and she allows herself to take a better survey, noting that it's fairly neat, save for the haphazard papers piled on a desk in the corner, and the mini liquor bottles that litter the floor near the trash can that Klaus must have missed when he'd attempted to sink them from a distance.

The bed's unmade and she approaches it, snagging a book from the nightstand. Caroline sits against the headboard after removing her shoes, folding her legs underneath her and settling in to wait all the while crossing her fingers that Klaus' taste in books is decent.

She's in luck, the story's absorbing, and Caroline's six chapters in when the door opens again. Klaus stops short in the doorway, and Caroline looks up, dog ears the page and makes a mental note to steal the book from him so she can finish it later. His eyes are wide, lips parted. He doesn't say anything and neither does Caroline, treating him to the sort of slow, lazy perusal he was fond of making of her person. He's in grey sweatpants, a thin white tee clinging to his damp skin, his face slightly flushed from exertion. She offers him a wave when it becomes clear he's having trouble finding his words, "Hi. You should probably close the door."

Klaus pushes it shut hastily as he clears his throat, "Hello. Caroline, I…"

She shakes her head, determined to say what she'd come here to say. "What happened in the club? That was dick move, Klaus."

"I know."

"I get that by avoiding… things I made them worse. I've never screwed around with a client, never wanted to. I thought that if I convinced myself that I didn't _want_ to things would click and be normal and we'd be able to _just_ work together. Do the job and go our separate ways. I figured you'd eventually stop waiting for me to make a move and you wouldn't be so tempting once we were more familiar with each other." It had been a long shot but Caroline's will power is better than most. She probably would have failed but what _he'd_ done, how he'd attempted to push her in the direction he'd wanted, had been the wrong play and she needs to make sure he gets that before they go any farther.

"I'm a man who believes that anything worth having is worth waiting for, Caroline. I'd have waited far longer for you than a few short weeks."

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, but we wouldn't have had the whole forced proximity thing making it tense. Eventually you would have forgotten all about little ol' me."

He shakes his head, looking irritated, "Do you think me so fickle? I'd already planned to convince you to work with me again. And if you'd have said no I'd have found a way to meet up with you the next time you worked with Elijah no matter what I had to promise him to make it happen. I said it the first time we met, love, and I only mean it more now. I want you. I want messy, and complicated and strings tying us together for as long as I can convince you to want them too."

Caroline licks her dry lips. "I'm… beginning to get that."

Klaus prowls a few steps forward, "I… miscalculated the other night. I thought to use your lust for me against you and that was wrong. You were angry but I think that, had I succeeded and you realized what I'd done later, you would have been angrier. I just _had_ to try something. I knew my time with you was dwindling and I ruined it completely."

She hesitates, "I'm not so sure about ruined. I'm still pissed but…"

"What can I _do_ , Caroline?"

For all the lists Caroline's made she's come up with no firm solutions. Does she want Klaus? Yes. Does she like him? Also yes. There are issues, of course. Their work, the fact that their home bases are on different continents, the job they still need to finish and the giant distraction that he could become. His attempt to play her was also a problem, though his naked regret makes her optimistic he wouldn't try such a scheme again.

He seemed to understand that there would be consequences, that Caroline would not let a second infraction go.

The question that had been bugging her these last few days was which would she regret more, _not_ trying and wondering what might have been? Or giving Klaus a shot and having it crash and burn in a spectacular fashion?

He's waiting for her response, tense and frozen a few feet from the bed. Caroline's always been more of a do-er, thought running was for cowards. She tips her chin up and meets his eyes, allows herself a secretive smile because she's got a plan for a little bit of payback. "Go and shower and then we'll see if you can make it up to me."

His frame relaxes and Klaus nods, a flash of intrigue and plenty of relief in his eyes as he retreats. As soon as she door to the bathroom clicks shut Caroline allows herself to grin, hopping up from the bed and beginning to strip. She slips the small vibrator, roughly the size of her middle finger but powerful, that she'd brought from the pocket of her jeans before she arranges her discarded clothing carefully on the floor, leaving the red lacy bra and panty set she'd been wearing clearly visible, a purposeful taunt.

She's imagined many scenarios in the last few days and what she's about to do had popped up most often. Klaus had left her hanging, tense and aroused and dying for a release. It was only fair, Caroline thought, to push him to a similar edge, make him feel what it had been like.

She dives under the covers once she's naked, piling the pillows behind her to prop herself up and arranging the blanket to just covers her breasts. She closes her eyes and listens carefully, can just make out the sound of the water splashing against the walls of the shower. She rests the vibrator next to her hip so she can easily grab it when it's needed, bringing her hands up to cup her breasts. Caroline starts softly, letting her mind wander, imagining the beads of water slipping down the lean muscles of Klaus' body. How he'd shake if she traced them with her tongue. She sighs as her nipples tighten, arching her back and firming the touch, tugging on the stiff peaks and squeezing her thighs together to encourage the building ache between them. She smiles when the water shuts off, pleased that Klaus was rushing, and draws her knees up, letting one of her hands stroke down her belly.

Caroline doesn't bother to open her eyes when she hears the bathroom door open, not even when Klaus hisses out a guttural, "Fuck," once he realizes just what she's doing in his bed. She's just slipped her fingers between her folds, unsurprised to find herself soaked and sticky. She spreads her legs wider as she begins to paint circles around her clit, the blanket shifting downwards, barely clinging to her breasts. She feels Klaus moving towards her, can hear the harsh rasp of his breath as he gets close.

"Mmm, no," she tells him, turning her head and slitting her eyes open with great difficulty. "You're going to watch until I say you can do more. Just watch. Keep your hands where I can see them."

His throat bobs harshly, "I thought I was supposed to be making it up to you."

She laughs, soft and throaty, ending in a whine as she stops touching herself long enough to grope for the vibrator. It's fairly quiet so she draws her hand out from beneath the covers. Her fingers are wet and she makes sure Klaus sees that _and_ what she holds. He groans, his hands fisted tightly in the white cotton towel that's wrapped around his waist, a definite tent in the front of it.

Good, let him ache too.

"Oh," Caroline drawls huskily, "don't worry. You will. But first, lose the towel."

The quickness with which he obeys the instruction is intensely flattering. She shamelessly studies his newly bared body, eyes raking over the tense plane of his stomach to take in the thick length of his cock. He's hard, liquid leaking from the tip, and Caroline makes a show of licking her lips. His hands flex, like he wants to touch himself, but Caroline makes a disapproving noise as she clicks on the vibrator. She points it at his cock, the picture of faux sympathy. "That looks like it might start to hurt soon."

A low grunt, not even a word, is all Klaus manages. "Tell you what," Caroline offers impishly, "I'll make you a deal. You can touch yourself, or I can lose the blanket. Your call."

Klaus lips press together into a thin line, something close to agony on his face as he considers. Caroline wonders if it makes her a bad person if it only turns her on more to know just how far he's willing to go to please her.

"The blanket," Klaus grits out.

"Alrighty then." A woman of her word, Caroline rips it off, slouching down further as she touches the vibrator to her clit. Klaus watches, eyes cloudy with desire, nearly shaking as he fights the urge to move. Caroline knows this is going to be fast so she wants to make it worth it. She ups the speed, letting her hand fall from her breast and venture between her legs so her free hand can spread her folds, allowing the vibrator more direct contact on her clit and conveniently giving Klaus an excellent view.

She watches him through heavy lidded as she rubs it over herself, her toes curling as her legs begins to shake.

"You're killing me," he groans, an edge of desperation to the clipped words.

"Now you know how I felt," Caroline rasps, pressing harder as her hips begin to roll, chasing the stimulation. "Do you know how close I was, Klaus? A few more flicks of your tongue and I would have come, would probably have screamed your name."

He apologizes, hoarse and mindless, and Caroline wonders if he'd even registered the words.

"I did this when I got back to the hotel, you know. I was still _so_ worked up. As soon as I shut the door I hiked up my skirt, knelt on the bed as I dug this little baby out of the nightstand. I got some lube too because I knew I couldn't bother with teasing myself. I came fast and hard but it was hollow because I wanted _you_."

He takes a shaky step towards the bed, and another, like he can't help himself. His cock has swollen, reddened and she can't wait until it's buried deep inside of her. "Caroline," he rumbles pleadingly. "Let me…"

She shakes her head, frantic against the pillows, "No. This is _mine_. Get on the bed. Do we need a condom?"

He practically falls on to the mattress and it's still bouncing when he settles on to his back. "I get tested. Are you…"

Caroline pushes herself up and straddles him, shaking her head. "IUD. And I'm clean. I want you inside of me." The noise he makes when she wraps her wet hand around his cock is both pained and elated, the cords of his throat in sharp relief as his head digs into the pillows. She lines him up with her entrance and sinks down firmly, throwing her head back as she absorbs the delicious feeling of being _full_ of him. She swirls her hips a few times, relishing the harsh pants Klaus lets out. When she rolls her head forward so she can look at him he's got the sheets trapped in his hands, his eyes wild and glued to her, a tinge of dread there, like he expects her to stop.

Like she could.

Caroline reaches forward, loops her fingers around his necklaces and tugs. Klaus' abs tense as he pulls himself up, shaky hands reaching for her face. The vibrator's still buzzing in her right hand and she draws it down his stomach slowly, watching his muscles twitch, the slick trail it leaves on his skin, with great interest. "I'm going to press this to my clit and I'm going to come, Klaus. Hard. On your cock. I want you to kiss me when I do but I want you to hold on. Because I want _more_."

"Anything," he rasps, drawing her closer until she can feel the words against her lips, "Anything you want, love."

She sinks her teeth into his lower lip when she touches the tip of the toy back to her clit, hard enough that he lets out a groan that's not purely pleasure. But his hands twist into her hair, angling her head as he licks into her mouth, swallowing her cries as she shakes thorough a climax, pressing her body as tightly against his as she can manage. He strokes her back as her heartbeat slows, as she breathes him in and floats, his cock still hard and wrapped in her fluttering heat.

She kisses the birds inked on his shoulder lazily, leans back a bit so she can stretch out her legs, wrap them around his hips. Klaus' eyes fall shut, a tremor wracking him. Caroline draws his hands to her breasts, whining when his thumb flicks over her nipple. She falls backwards onto the bed, reaching her arms out towards the footboard in a contented stretch as she catches Klaus' dark, desperate gaze. "Now," she tells him, scratchy voiced and firm, "I want you to fuck me like you should have on that balcony."

It's an invitation for him to let his control snap and it does so beautifully. She whines a protest as he pulls out of her, and he shushes her soothingly. His hands are unsteady as he looms over her and urges her onto her stomach, stroking down her spine. He helps her onto her knees, sliding inside of her and beginning to move as he reaches to play with her clit. She's got her head buried in her arms, circling her hips in time with Klaus' thrusts, until he tugs at her hair, "Look up, Caroline," he urges. "Watch how lovely you are as you fall apart."

There's a big mirror above the dresser opposite the bed and Caroline's lips part as she does what Klaus has asked. Her breasts sway with each rough pump of his hips, her hair a tangled cloud around her flushed face. He folds himself over her, hot against her back, to breathe dirty words and praise in her ear, she cries out as his fingers speed up on her clit, the need for release building rapidly even though she _should_ be sated.

He holds off until she comes again, letting go once her arms are too shaky to hold herself up, trembling against her as his hips move in shaky bursts until he's spent. Klaus doesn't let her rest long, tells her he wants to feel her come against his tongue. He doesn't seem to mind tasting himself on her, moans and licks while watching her face twist with pleasure. He takes her slow, next. Rests on his elbows above her, kisses her throat and whispers things that are mostly sweet. How much he'd missed her, places he wants to take her. They nap together before starting again, Caroline rousing him by slipping beneath the covers and brushing the ends of her hair over his stomach, upper thighs and cock.

It's days before they leave the bed and Caroline never does manage to sleep in her own room again.

* * *

Caroline's not at all surprised when Klaus takes the wrong turn. He steers the car down a pitch dark side road, shifts into park as soon as he's safely on the shoulder. With the looks he'd been shooting in her direction, furtive and filled with a depth of want that made her breathing hitch, ever since they'd left the estate she's honestly surprised he'd waited a whole ten minutes to pull over.

As they'd departed he'd caught up to her quickly, at her side before she'd rounded the side of the house. He'd immediately rested his hand on her back and urged her to hurry. His shirt had been untucked, to hide the tube he'd likely tucked into his waistband, and the valet's who'd snapped to attention when they'd approached had all looked like they wanted to laugh.

Impressively, they'd refrained and Klaus had left them a hefty tip after he'd helped her into the passenger side of their rental SUV.

When they'd picked it up Caroline had complained about all the money they were going to waste on gas. Now she saw the appeal of a roomy backseat. She plays dumb, leaning forward and glancing around, "Is something wrong? Are we lost?"

"Shut up, Caroline," Klaus all but growls, hands tight on the wheel.

She faces the window and hopes he can't see her smile. She's not offended by the gruffness, figures she owes him a little time to process since she'd clearly managed to shock the hell out of him. And to think she'd credited him with being more observant that your average man. "Well, that's rude," she sniffs. "Exactly the thing a girl wants to hear in response to an 'I love you.' Such romance."

He's silent, not rising to the bait and she listens to him shift in his seat, watches how tense he is in the faint reflection of the glass of her window. "Did you mean it?" Klaus asks finally asks, so quiet Caroline almost misses it.

She whips around, all hints of teasing gone. The question had been completely lacking in the usual brashness she associates with Klaus. She tugs his hand off the wheel, trying to catch his eyes. "Of _course_ I meant it."

"You want to stay with me?" he presses urgently, still not looking at her.

"Well, yeah," Caroline says slowly. It should be obvious but she's been making tentative plans. Doesn't mind sharing them with Klaus. "I mean, we'll have to figure the logistics out. I've actually only been to London once, so if you want to show me around…" she trails off as he cuts the engine, tossing the keys on the dash.

"Backseat," Klaus demands, low and rough. "Dress _off_. I know you like it, love. I do too but I need it _gone_."

She hasn't had car sex since she was a teenager but she's not going to let that stop her. "I still want the champagne thing," she warns him, hiking up her skirt and kicking off her heels so she can wiggle through the gap between the front seats. "And I want a cheeseburger later. I wasn't kidding about being hungry."

Klaus is undressing in frantic jerky movements, she hears a ping, assumes it's a button hitting the window. Caroline fumbles with the thin belt around her waist, Klaus' obvious and barely leashed need for her filling her with anticipation. She's worked her arms out of the sleeves when he moves to join her in the backseat and his hands quickly join hers, tugging the dress down, over her hips, tossing it to the floorboards. He reaches back into the front seat for his jacket, crumples it up to use as a pillow before easing her down and settling between her parted thighs. "Such a gentleman," Caroline teases, running her hands along the muscles of his back, relishing the heat of him against the inside of her thighs as she shifts to welcome him. "None of my high school boyfriends would have thought of that."

Klaus' laugh is rusty sounding, the kiss he places over her heart reverent. "I've been telling myself for days that I had to say good bye to you, Caroline. Kindly try not to talk about your former lovers, will you? Or else I might have to do something drastic."

He slips lower before she can say anything else and she moans as his skin drags along hers. The sound grows louder, harsh and ragged when he licks over her nipple, his hand teasing the other. She tilts her hips up, trying to press herself against the flat of his stomach. She's been thinking about this since she'd first stepped outside the ballroom, could really go for a little friction, but Klaus holds too much of his weight off of her. He seems intent on taking his time, toying with her nipples until they're stiff, and likely red from his mouth. He moves lower, stroking the sensitive undersides of her breasts while she shivers and twists in search of relief. Heat builds steadily between her thighs, an insistent pulse of want leaving Caroline's body clenching down around nothing. Klaus' hands keep up patterns that she's sure are meant to be soothing, long slow brushes across her exposed skin, but they do nothing to calm her racing heartbeat. She tries to be patient, sensing he needs to touch her like this, that he wants _this_ , all the things lingering between them, to last.

And she gets it. Likes the weight of him, the closeness, the familiar scent of his skin. But Caroline's _aching_. She needs more pressure or she'll go crazy, wants his fingers, his cock, _something_. She can feel how wet she is, and surely Klaus can too, but still he refuses to move below her waist. His cock is hot and heavy against her thigh, and he groans when she moves to get it somewhere _useful_ , always shifting away, refusing to give in to her silent pleas. When his lips trace her ribs she lets out a whine, pulling on his hair as she wraps a leg around his back in an effort to get him to _hurry_. "Klaus, come on," she gasps. "How can you possibly _still_ want to take this slow? I've already gotten off tonight and I'm _dying_. How are you not fucking me right now?"

She feels the puffs of air on the skin of her stomach even as she sees the slight shake of his shoulders. She tugs a little more harshly on the curls she's threaded through her fingers. "As if you're laughing at me right now?" she mutters petulantly, moving under him restlessly.

He crawls up her body, smile widening at her half-hearted glare. Klaus shifts to the side, his back against the seats, stroking a palm down her body. He nuzzles her throat when she refuses to look at him. "I'm not laughing _at_ you, sweetheart. Not really. Isn't this how it's supposed to go? Slow and careful, to show that I love you too?"

She finds herself softening at the words, even as she pushes his hand lower. Klaus lets her, his fingers brushing just above her slit. She thinks she'd known the truth of his feelings all along, had it confirmed when he'd been so disbelieving that she wanted more than just _now_ with him. Still, she likes how the word love sounds on his lips.

She'll make him say it again, later, when she's riding him.

Right now she knows that the best way to get what she wants from him involves goading. Klaus _never_ backed down from a challenge. "Aw," she coos, "someone's been paying attention to the Nicholas Sparks movies I made him watch."

He nips at her skin warningly, "Now who's laughing at whom, hmm? Let's see if we can fix that."

Mission accomplished.

One of her legs slips off the seat, giving him more room. He watches her face as he touches her, dipping into her wetness and rubbing just the way she likes best. Klaus' touch gentles every time her eyes begin to flutter, he waits until she focuses on him again before he applies his clever fingers to her most sensitive areas. It's neither fast or slow, but something in between. A steady building as he reads her body perfectly, the interior of the SUV heating with their pants and moans. She tugs his mouth to hers as she comes, kissing him as he works her through, turning to face him and hitching a leg over his hip as soon as she can fully command her limbs again. He looks down as he slips inside of her, a low groan caught in his throat.

There's not a lot of room to move but they make it work, hands slipping as sweat builds on skin, their breaths growing heavy and heartbeats racing. He presses his face into her shoulder, an arm drifting up her back to get her closer, his hand winding into her hair as their motions roughen, becoming greedy as they both chase what the next high.

Later, pulling on her dress is a chore, her skin sweat slick and extra sensitive. Klaus' attempts to help are more of a hindrance as he kisses the skin he's supposed to be covering. When they're relatively decent they set off, and Caroline finds herself drifting to sleep, wrapped once more in Klaus' jacket. She wakes when they're near civilization and Klaus takes them to the nearest McDonald's. He orders her favorite things as Caroline yawns, stretching her arms above her head with a contented noise. "You are too good to me," she mumbles, while they wait for the food to be ready.

He huffs a laugh, "I want you to remember you said that the next time I set a cup of tea too close to your laptop."

" _Or_ , you could just _not_ set hot liquids next to my baby," Caroline shoots back. "The one I built with my own two hands, my sweat, blood and tears."

"Blood?"

"Yep," Caroline confirms, nose wrinkling as she remembers. "I sliced open my finger pretty good at one point. It probably could have used a stitch or two but I was determined to finish."

"Ouch."

"Worth it. Do you really want to ruin it with tea?"

"I suppose," Klaus says lightly, "given your great sacrifices that I could _try_ to set my tea elsewhere."

A fair compromise and Caroline knows that she can work with that. That Klaus is willing to _try_ for her is all she really needs. She smiles, leans over and kisses his cheek, "That sounds good to me."

* * *

She takes a deep breath, turns to the side one last time, eyeing her reflection in the mirror critically to make sure nothing's amiss. The dress fits like a glove, the color is spectacular, and the old Hollywood style body waves she's coaxed her hair into looked perfect. She'd kicked Klaus out of her room, told him she couldn't get ready if her kept looking her like _that_ (they'd had more sex in the last few days than most people had in years, Caroline was pretty sure. Did he have to _keep_ giving her the bedroom eyes?). They had to get their heads in the game, and a little alone time was sure to do the trick.

Klaus had pouted a bit, something she was sure he would deny, but had acquiesced, saying he needed to go pick something up for tonight. What, Caroline wasn't sure, since as far as she knew his tux had been delivered from the hotel's complimentary laundry service yesterday. He'd texted her about an hour ago, saying he was back and about to jump into the shower. To come get him when she was ready.

She nods in satisfaction, and leaves the bathroom, making her way towards the door. She keeps her shoulders straight and proud as she marches across the hallway, ignoring the little flutter of nerves.

It's just Klaus, Caroline tells herself, and they weren't going to the freaking prom. He'd seen her look pretty damn terrible in the last month, coffee deprived, cranky and tearing her hair out over an elusive bit of code needed to patch Silas Traveler's event planner's phone (and all the data about the party that flowed through it) into her laptop. And, even after all that, Klaus still seemed to like her. Fretting _now_ was silly.

Whatever. No one would ever know. Caroline just hopes she _looks_ calmer than she feels.

She knocks sharply on his door before she can talk herself out of it and it's thrown open immediately. He smiles, warm and open and not attempting to hide how pleased he is to see her. "Evening, lo-" he begins but the greeting is cut off, Klaus' mouth falling open as he takes her in fully. "Wow," he manages after a moment, and Caroline preens a little at his stumbling. Klaus doesn't seem to notice her pleasure at his lack of finesse, his eyes drinking in the details of her ensemble. It's a look that bares a fair amount of skin, eye catching and bold just like they'd discussed. He sucks in an audible breath, "You look… I can only say ravishing but that's too simple a word. You are so much more than that."

She gives him mental points for the recovery, feels her face heat at his sincerity. She attempts to keep it light, "I told you I could pick a dress," she jokes, stepping forward as he gestures for her to enter.

"And I never doubted you." Klaus sweeps a black box off the table next to the door and offers it to her with a small bow, "A gift."

She takes it, glancing over at him as she runs her fingers over the velvet. "Thought you were borrowing something from your sister? From what I've heard she's a little possessive. Are you sure you want to be giving away her hard earned treasures?"

He clears his throat, looking a little unsure, "I bought it, actually. I wanted you to have something to remember this night by."

She absorbs that, touched, and flips the case open. Her eyes widen at the diamond bracelet inside, each stone sparkling and perfect. "It's beautiful," she breathes. "I'm only sorry the sleeves of the dress will cover it."

Klaus waves her concern away, "We'll know it's there. Maybe it'll be lucky."

"We don't need luck," Caroline counters, almost offended.

Klaus' reply is amused, "Not superstitious, sweetheart? That's a dead giveaway you're not a thief, you know. We all have our odd little rituals."

She's heard that, seen it time and time again. She and Klaus have never discussed it though, the things he does before a job, and she finds that she's curious. "Oh? And what's yours?"

Klaus hand goes to his neck absently, "The first thing I ever stole, from my mother's drawer. It was an earring but I wear the stone around my neck now. Only on a job, you see. And it's never steered me wrong. I'll show it to you later, if you'd like."

"I would." Klaus hasn't talked about his parents, only shared a few stories about his siblings. She'll have to ask him about them later. Maybe ferret out a few more details about Kol and Rebekah. She'll likely meet them someday, won't she? Might as well be prepared.

"Well, maybe this will be mine." She holds out her wrist, "Would you help me with it?"

He steps forward, turning her hand over with gentle fingertips, nimbly clasping the strand of diamonds around her wrist. He strokes her pulse point absently when he's finished and Caroline shivers in response. Klaus' smile in response holds a wealth of satisfaction. He does it again and Caroline stiffens, refusing to react again.

Did he have to make it so hard for her to remember she had a job to do?

"Hold that thought, love. You're going to need it later."

Caroline nods, "Yep. I'll remember it when I'm shamelessly pawing you in front of a room full of tipsy strangers."

"I look forward to it. Are you ready?"

She considers, picking at her sleeves for a moment to make sure they're straight. She'd _thought_ she was prepared, and it's not exactly like she's a newbie. Most of what she'll be doing tonight she's done a million times before. The things that she hasn't don't amount to much more than smiling, looking pretty, and convincing people that she and Klaus are hot for each other. Simple enough. The property they were going to was even old, little used, so the tech wasn't that advanced. Practically child's play.

So why is she jittery?

Klaus takes her hand, winds their fingers together and squeezes, solid and reassuring and her nerves abate a little. "I'll be right there, Caroline," he tells her firmly, brimming with confidence. "We can do this."

"I know," Caroline says, returning the pressure of his hand. "I'm ready."

He watches her for a long moment, checking to see if she's sure. Caroline doesn't waver, meets his eyes steadily. She hadn't lied, she _does_ know they can do this. They've prepared, had a solid plan, and Klaus was a great partner.

It's going to be a perfect evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "It Takes A Lot To Know A Man" by Damien Rice.


End file.
